


Archangel

by echo (echoflowertea)



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Angst, Explicit Language, F/F, F/M, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-16
Updated: 2016-03-26
Packaged: 2018-05-20 23:58:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 40
Words: 89,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6030643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/echoflowertea/pseuds/echo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the years before Shepard's resurrection, Garrus had his own crew. Some might even say they were successful.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Close Call

**Author's Note:**

> Does not strictly follow canon later down the line. Written about three years ago, so please don't take it too seriously! Just thought I'd share it since I am proud of a lot of things in it. Honestly, I haven't posted anything in almost five years so if this isn't your cup of tea, it's better for both of us if you just pretend you never read it!

Inhale.

Exhale.

Finger on the trigger. Eye down the scope. Steady hold.

Inhale.

Exhale.

He squeezed the trigger.

“We've got a problem.”

With meticulous care, he stood from his spot near the window. Another dead scout. How many were they going to send before they stopped playing games?

“What is it?”

“Reports of a shakedown. Gozu District.”

“Again? When will they learn to quit?”

He peered through his visor at his partner. It had been eight months. Eight months since the hull of the _Normandy_ was torn open and Shepard's body burned reentering Alchera's atmo. Eight months since he could remember the smell of kava on the Citadel while prepping for his early morning paperwork. And eight months since he had a decent night's rest without glancing over his shoulder to make sure the muzzle of a gun wasn't pointed to the back of his head.

He was exhausted.

“Not sure,” Butler offered. He scratched the back of his neck, a nervous habit that he picked up over the constant exposure to red sand. Said he was allergic to the stuff. Considering how much they'd burned in an attempt to sabotage shipments, it made sense. Butler always got twitchy when they stepped into the hideouts, and that nervousness of an allergic reaction became synonymous with another daring attack. Same chemicals rushing through him, adrenaline most likely.

“Who was the tip from?”

“Kid from the clinic. Said he heard it when he was walking by. Hasn't let me down yet.”

“We'll see. Who's the target this time?”

“Some guy's been selling hallex on the Blue Suns' turf. Didn't get a permit, as it were. Used the money to hire some pretty nasty bodyguards. The Suns are getting ready to storm his base of operations, which happens to be set in an asari storefront. Not sure if she's aware of what's been going down, but they're not planning on playing nice, judging from what the kid told me.”

“Got it.” He had to remember. Inhale. Exhale. “Grab Vortash and Sidonis. We'll take 'em out together.”

“And leave Mierin here? By himself?”

“He loaded the charges by the door. He knows what he's doing.”

“We need more men, Arch.”

“They'll come if they accept the risks. You did, didn't you? We get by alright.”

“Sure, it isn't the same as when you were storming these places on your own. Though I have to say, it's a little unfair that you get all the glory. Hearing some vorcha whispering my name wouldn't be so bad.”

“Vorcha admiration? What would your wife think?”

A tinge of humor to cover his apprehension. Not in his skills, but in the situation. Tips were good, they were his lifeblood. They helped him restore a little justice and order. But it was hard to see the benefit in saving a drug dealer who peddled on the streets near the orphanage and clinic. If they got rid of the Blue Suns' influence, there would be no one to stop him. And it wasn't too hard to get a few dumb kids hooked on the pills once peer pressure coaxed them to take the plunge.

“I'll let the others know.”

Nothing on Omega was routine.

 _Nothing_.

On the Citadel, there were rules and regulations in place. Aside from the few criminals who thought they were slick enough to beat the system, people followed them. But here, out in the middle of ass-end nowhere, on a crumbling space station with over seven million life forms trying to exist, there were no rules. Stabbings and shootings in the streets, murders galore. Innocent people flayed alive over a bad deal or just for kicks. Missing women and children with nothing but sobbing significant others left, if anything at all. Each person was responsible for their own life with a little bit of shotgun diplomacy and little else. If you didn't have a sidearm, you were vulnerable and targeted as such. Civilians? Didn't matter. No one there to keep a watchful eye, to stop the injustices before it happened. Definitely no officers dedicating hard-working, long hours in trying to catch the perp. He thought that he hated the restrictions of the Citadel because of what they prevented him from doing, but at least there was some semblance of order. It was just him and a few other able bodies on this giant shithole and they were all aiming to get to the top, no matter how many people they clambered over to get there.

In a way, strange and small, he reveled in the attention he started to receive. Only because he wanted to be an icon of hope, of some sense of goodness in the galaxy that still existed. He had to be the stand-in for so many that couldn't raise their voices high enough, or those whose screams were drowned out by the greedy laughter everyone else. He had to be this tall, hulking symbol of what was _right_ because he felt it in his gut. Those people deserved that much.

“Scope out the layout. I don't want any surprises.”

“Got it.” Sidonis eased his way out of the picture and slipped into the normal facade, blending in with the rest of the trickles of bodies that filtered into the establishment.

“Vortash. See anything?”

The body down below hesitated. “Negative. No signs yet.”

“Keep me posted.”

He went further down the edge of the building, at a spot near the window. From here he had the perfect vantage point. Through the scope he could spot the cash register and the not-too concerned asari owner handing over a package across the counter. She smiled and waved the customer off before rolling her eyes when they had gone the other way, fingers reaching over to grab the cigarette he left on the counter. She put it to her lips and inhaled, the smoke curling and dissipating near her head fronds.

“Four o' clock from your position. Hostiles approaching.”

Three of them. Same number he had with him. He watched their figures make their way to the front door and enter, noting features. Two turians, one human. Odd combination. Two troopers and one legionnaire. Nothing to scoff at. All packing heat, enough for them to blow the asari to smithereens. Shotguns and assault rifles. A recipe for messy close encounter combat.

“Sidonis? What's your position?”

The comm crackled. Radio silence.

“Sidonis. Status report!”

Nothing.

“Shit.”

He switched over to another channel and tried to hail him again. The reception was bad. Moving twenty feet to the right must have jammed his signal. That or the Blue Suns had a scrambler with them, which wasn't impossible. The majority of them were tech experts, and with how many hits they'd received lately, it was only right for them to be cautious.

“We need a tech expert,” he muttered. Especially in dealing with these mercs.

“...ch. Mer...ching t..get. Or...s?”

“Repeat, Butler.”

“--Ted grou...ay to own...ders, Ar--?”

He inhaled. Exhaled. Peered through the scope.

Aside from the Blue Suns and the asari storeowner, there were four civilians. Two of them were together and ready to leave, by the looks of it. The third was watching in glee at the development. Typical Omega scum, ready to lick up the blood splatters off the floor after being entertained. The fourth, completely unaware, was what he was most worried about. She was naïve to overlook the presence of three heavily armed soldiers. It was a common occurrence in the district, but why would she feel safe with those murderers? With the things that they had done to others, she really thought that some thin promise sealed with credits would protect her from the crossfire in case things were to get ugly?

“Starting to get iffy inside. Have you lined up your shot?”

“Affirmative.” His crosshairs settled down on the leader, the obvious commanding officer, and he didn't hesitate. “Taking the legionnaire out.”

In the time it took for him to exhale, the commander of the trio had a new hole through the center of his helmet, blue blood exiting out the front and spraying the screaming asari.

Butler shot the second with no hesitation, the body dropping to the ground. Garrus popped in another thermal clip and aimed down the sights, his vision tunneling. He saw the last merc, his hand on the trigger of his gun, and the tip of it pressed to the temple of the civilian.

Not the asari.

He saw the indentation it made in the female human's skin. Part of him was floored. The only one left, an obvious human. Ready to end the life of someone from his own species with no regrets. No waver in his arm, no muscles shaking with question. His stance was powerful and cocky, straight, staring right at Garrus through his scope. He couldn't see the man's expression, but could imagine it was nothing less of stony. Sure. Questioning. _Daring._

“Arch?”

A moment of conflict. He could take it. He could. He'd made harder shots. Geth from half a mile away. Thorian thralls swarming across the platform. He swallowed and, when he shifted, the man down below mirrored his movement. Edged his way around the woman so that his head was behind hers, bending down to whisper in her ear.

“ARCH! Are you taking the shot or not?!”

He could do it.

_“What were you thinking? You could've hit the hostage!”_

_“There wasn't time to think! I just reacted. I didn't mean to--”_

“Not this time, Shepard,” he muttered, the words bitter on his taste buds.

“Fucking SHIT.”

Butler stood down, Vortash following. Garrus removed his finger from the trigger and looked the other way, exhaling long and loud through his comm. He glanced back to watch the last merc slip away, dragging the hostage with him out of his line of sight. No struggle at all.

He made his way down, shaky from the vivid memory of his time on the SR-1. Butler approached him with distaste written in his expression. The question swam in his eyes but Garrus had no time to indulge him, first concern in dealing with the aftermath. The three of them entered the store with the asari still backed against the wall, chest heaving and face wrenched up in horror.

“You are fine,” Vortash snapped. “Get a hold of yourself.”

“I just watched two mercenaries get their heads taken off!” The familiar blue glow around her slender frame signified that her temper was flaring. Nothing good could come of that, and Garrus wished that Vortash learned how to hold his damn tongue. “My fucking merchandise is ruined with all of this blood!”

“That's really all you care about?” Butler shot back, still heated from the battle. “A girl got a gun put to her head because of your dirty deals, and you're worried about your stock?” He pulled out his pistol and aimed it at her, voice wavering. “We risked civilian lives for you, but it's obvious you're just as guilty as the corpses on the floor. Give me one good reason why I should let you live.”

She bared her teeth, the innocent act all but gone. “Just _try_ me, human.”

“Stand down.” Garrus ambled toward the counter and stepped over the bodies, pointedly staring at the clerk. “We're destroying the lab. If you want to fight us, fine.”

“But you – you just tried to help me! How can you turn your back after all that trouble? That girl could be dead because you tried to storm in here and save me, and now you're going to kill me anyway?” She wasn't letting down her defense mechanism any time soon, and the hurried tone to her voice confirmed her guilt. She didn't try to deny the existence of the lab in her shop. No confusion or questions as to what they were talking about.

“Everyone makes mistakes. Especially humans.”

Butler shot and she deflected the bullet, but Vortash was ready when she dropped her barrier down to go for a biotic throw. The spray from his shotgun nailed her in about thirteen different places. She slumped against the wall and cursed them with blood flecking her lips. None of them made a move to try to understand her last words.

“Check the back,” Garrus directed Butler, who was still shaking. “Vortash. Head down the stairs to your left. There's a console hiding the false wall.”

Vortash was about as skilled with hacking as he was with picking up women, but that was the point. Garrus needed him busy and out of the way, especially with the delicate situation that Butler was in. He knew that Butler wasn't xenophobic, but there was always going to be something deeper that resonated with him when the victim was human. Garrus didn't have to ask how he lost his daughter.

“All for fucking nothing. She could be dead and it was because we decided to play hero. For a woman who was taking credits from drug dealers.” No subharmonics needed to detect the traces of anger in his voice.

The two of them went through the back door to the alley. A few vorcha scattered with hisses and curses thrown, but nothing else stirred. Butler walked down the sticky aisle, past a few discarded ration bar wrappers, and stared near the dumpster.

“Shit. Shit, she's alive.”

That was new. Garrus was ready to make some sort of speech about why he hesitated, without revealing too much information of course, but it was unneeded. Butler holstered his gun and made his way to the female that was settled against the wall. She turned her head to regard them both but made no move to run or cry. In fact, her face was the epitome of calm. That didn't sit well with him. He held his tongue for now.

“You okay? He didn't clip you, did he? I've got medigel.”

“I'm fine,” she finally murmured. Voice soft. Something rare on Omega.

“He just—he just let you go? Why?” He picked up his head and scanned his surroundings, reaching for his gun once again.

She shook her head and pulled herself to full height, exhaling shakily. “No, no, he's gone. He left. They had a transit waiting for him back here.”

“Where the fuck was Sidonis?” Butler barked. “He was supposed to be scoping out this place!”

Not one for subtlety, as hesitation often meant death, Garrus made eye contact with her. “How much did they pay you?”

Butler glanced at her. “Oh. Fuck. No.” He grabbed her arm and tugged her forward none too gently. “Don't tell me you volunteered as a _distraction_.”

“A what?” Alarm seeped into her features. “No! Nothing like that!”

“Then why were you here? Why didn't you _run_? Why didn't he blow a hole in your head? You didn't fight, you didn't struggle, you just STOOD there! You better have a damn good reason, and it better be believable too, or else you'll get the same treatment as our little asari friend back there!”

“Wh...” Her brows furrowed and the weakness made its way to her mouth. “You killed her?”

“She almost got you killed! Answer the damn question!”

She paused. Looked up at Garrus. “I knew he wouldn't kill me.”

“Bullshit! Unless he made you an offer, he would have punched a hole and made off with your credit chit! Don't lie to me!”

She shook her head and her shoulders dropped. “He wouldn't have. He's my brother.”


	2. Loose Ends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Garrus takes responsibility for his previous decision.

“You shouldn't have left me here. I could've set some demo charges in the lab. Blew it sky high! Butler seems unstable, anyway.”

Garrus watched the salarian with mild interest as he tinkered with some of his explosives in the corner, probably touching up the sensitivity. He recalibrated it at least twenty times in the past week but still wasn't satisfied. At least the man showed some interest in his work being meticulous and protecting them. He'd take obsessive diagnostics over death any day.

“Didn't think you'd need to be there. Assumed that the asari was innocent. She wasn't.”

“I cannot believe you did not let me get rid of the girl. She lied right to your face.” Vortash cleaned his shotgun, wiping his lucky rag down the barrel. “Butler is too soft. It will get him killed.”

“She had no reason to lie. She knew I would've blown her brains out,” Butler shot back, having entered the room. “And Arch can read people. He knows.”

“That pyjack said her brother was in the merc group we have been chasing down all over Omega. You do not think she got a good look at you? Next chance she gets, she will squeal. They will have doubled security cams all over their turf with facial recognition, high-class encryptions. And while they bust down our door, she will show up with a smile on her face.”

Butler was adamant. “No. She wouldn't. Because if that did happen, she knows she'd be the first to go. Only a fucking idiot would sacrifice their life like that, brother or no. Besides, she didn't have a clue as to what was going on. Arch saw – he saw it in her face. She was innocent. If he thought for a second that she was playing for the merc, he would have taken the shot.”

“Or he is getting sloppy.” Vortash stood up and directed the comment toward Garrus, who was posted on his perch near the window. “I at least have the quad to say it to your face. We want to protect these people, not give them a reason to think that we are going to hold their hands and pray that the criminals will leave them alone. Should you have taken that shot? You would have killed a mercenary and his sister. No witnesses. No loose ends. Instead, you let her get away.”

“We need collateral in case she turns. Find out more information: where she lives, works, patterns in behavior....if she deviates, it'd indicate an obvious leak to the Blue Suns,” Mierin added as an afterthought.

“No,” Garrus cut in. “We aren't going to intimidate and blackmail. That's what they would do. We're different. No civilians, no innocents. My only stipulation which you all agreed to. Change your mind? The door's wide open.”

Butler hesitated for a moment. “It wouldn't hurt, Arch. Just to find out. If she's dirty... _if_ she is, then no harm done. If she's innocent, we just dust our hands and move on. Don't need to dwell on it.”

“Find out her story. It's either we assume she'll give her sibling the information he needs, putting all of us in needless danger, or we leave it and wake up with an entire squadron shooting up the base.”

Garrus' grip on his rifle tightened. “Fine. But I'll be the one to make the call.”

“It is your show, turian. We are just along for the ride. We volunteered for this position. We are fighting for what you are.”

“Covering our bases. That's all,” Mierin chimed.

None of them made any comment to the other turian in the room, silently reapplying another dose of medigel to his wound. His apologies had been repeated until everyone else could recite them. Another screw-up like that and he would have everyone killed. Sidonis made a silent vow not to see it happen again.

Humans weren't exactly commonplace on Omega. It was littered with asari, turians, batarians, krogan, and of course, vorcha.

Vorcha bred where there was disease and rot, preferring the dank sewers to scavenge and occasionally receive invitations to become living shields for the Blood Pack.

The krogan viewed this place as one of the most positive career starters once they were old enough to get off the radioactive hellhole the majority of their species resided on.

Batarians made a killing with slaves and red sand. A dream come true for most of their forces. If they climbed up the ranks they could even make their way into _Afterlife_ 's staff as bouncers or personal bodyguards for the Queen of Omega herself.

Turians who wanted little to do with the Hierarchy sought their way out and, if they didn't join the mercenary groups to make a living, posted themselves up as hired guns. Some merely stopped by on the way to another station or outpost and used the bars as a way to relax before another long excursion.

Asari learned the ropes of the dancing trade in the multitude of strip clubs and bars that littered the station's surface. That or they pledged themselves to the Eclipse. Something to be said about their lust for danger and excitement in their maiden years.

Humans, of course, were under the impression that this place held opportunity for them. It rarely, if ever, did (unless they sought a quick release through a cocktail made from narcotics with a dash of homicide). The ones who survived managed to adapt quickly. They laced their nerves with steel and learned to thrive under the harsh conditions of natural hatred from the galaxy's other races.

Garrus settled himself in the Gozu District, wary of his surroundings, at a sleazy establishment only referred to as _Supernova._

Typical shithole. Overpriced booze, dancers wrapped up in latex or nothing at all, women posted up on poles and tables for willing customers. Towards the back there was a dance floor, but it was mainly used for brawls between most of the patrons. One wrong look or word muttered through a glitched translator, and all hell broke loose. Most of the time the security just laughed and watched, often placing bets on the unlucky loser whose neck snapped first.

All in all, not a place he expected to see her.

He did a double take but went back to cradling his shot, not taking any chances for it to be spiked. He never drank more than a couple, and they were only to keep the bartenders off his back. On a place like this, with criminals lurking to cut off his fringe to ship to some place like Tuchanka for a warlord's wife as an ornament, he couldn't afford to let his guard down. No matter how tense he felt.

She balanced the tray flat on her forearm and weaved her way through the crowd, graceful in the way she avoided the groping hands for the drinks she carried. She kept her eyes straight forward, hair pulled back away from her face, clothes tucked so no one could grab and tug to pull her this way and that. She knew her way around judging by the pattern in her steps, the way she avoided the raised tile about six feet to his right. Others tripped and stumbled but she caught herself, a fluid exchange of a credit chit and booze between her and the customer. And nothing more but a brief flash of a smile as thanks, even when said customer reeked of alcohol and tried to interrogate her for whatever reason.

“You know, she's just a barmaid,” a feminine voice drawled from his left. “You're wasting your time.”

Garrus turned toward the asari that settled next to him, leaning on the bar. She grinned underneath the flashing neon lights and dropped her shoulders further, exposing more cleavage.

“Like 'em soft and squishy, huh? I've got an idea. One thousand creds says you get a private dance from me right over there in that nice little room. No licking, biting or touching. Only three rules.” She eyed him. “But I can be willing to compromise if you convince me you're a nice guy.”

“More interested in information.” He tipped his head back and let the liquid burn down his throat. “A thousand for as much as you've got, so long as it's interesting. Five hundred for a name.”

She fumbled. “Lots of people work here. I don't make it a point to get to know any of them. Some only last a few days.”

“And her?”

“Been here longer than me, but that doesn't mean much, I just got dropped off three months ago.”

“Know her schedule?”

He could see the numbers swimming in her eyes. “I can find out. Ask around.”

“Or you could point me to someone who can. Not a boss. I'm looking to be discreet.”

“Just information?” She hesitated. “I don't like ratting anybody out. If she screwed you over, an ex-girlfriend or something like that, I get paid double.”

“Not anything like that.”

“I'll look into it. Come back tomorrow night and I'll sell what I've got.”

He gave her a small nod in return. “A thousand creds. It better be worth it.”

A thousand credits was a lot to ask of a vigilante. Income was given from the bottom of people's hearts, out of donations which were refused but forced on his crew anyway. Most of the others did odd jobs around the station when they could. Garrus was sure that Butler's wife was well aware of what was going on and she was as supportive as she could be, often sending food with him to take to the base when they met up. The others were away from their extended families, some of them not even bothering to explain themselves, but they seemed to hint at doing good work. But good work often meant going unrewarded, as there were no bounties from anyone respectable that they could cash in.

He still made ends meet, though. Sold some old pieces of equipment from C-Sec he brought with him that he didn't need. Trinkets and parts around the marketplace.

In order to cash out for the information he needed, Garrus parted ways with an old pin he received from his first human partner. Nothing valuable in terms of sentiment; it was something that the guy had given him because he assumed that turians were like birds and liked to collect shiny things. At the time he felt incredulous at the notion and pocketed it with a half-hearted thanks. Another oddity about humans he didn't quite understand but he wanted to learn. The pin was made of platinum, a useful mineral these days only found by mining planets, so the clerk was eager to take it off his hands.

“Find anything about our possible informant?” Sidonis asked when he paced around the base.

“No,” Garrus replied, voice and subharmonics clipped. He was still annoyed that Sidonis had fucked up on the last mission. Bastard fell down and knocked himself out when observing the layout of the lab almost as soon as they got there. Sprained his ankle and cost them a merc. He was still bitter about the guy getting away, but at least the other turian seemed genuine in wanting to make up for his mistake.

“You will. You mentioned you were going to pay an asari to do some digging, right? If there's one thing those chicks are good at, it's recon. Matter of fact, we should round one up, huh? I might know someone.”

“If they're eager enough, they'll find us.”

_Supernova_ redux.

“Looking for an asari dancer. Worked here last night, trying to pick up customers. Lavender skin, freckles. About five-two.”

The bartender laughed. “Faedra? That bitch got hired over to _Afterlife_. Guess Aria needed to replace someone who bought a one-way ticket out of this place. Some guys came scoping around for new meat and offered her a position. Everyone knows it's got better security than this dump, so it's no wonder she said yes.”

Garrus shot him a wry smile, underneath his plates the itch of disappointment settling in. “Right. Just my luck.”

“I know how you feel. Never get attached to any of the faces around here.”

“What about the human? Faedra mentioned she'd been here a while.”

“Oh. Her.” He snorted and both sets of eyes wandered over to the tables. “Now she's a cute one. Don't know why everyone's got something against humans. They may not be the whores of the galaxy, but they've got just as much to offer as asari. The one you're talking about, she's been serving drinks for about six or seven months now. Kind of a nervous little thing. Bet she's wild in the sack, though. Heard humans like that usually are – 'it's forever the silent ones'. Something like that. Can't get more than a few words out of her at a time.”

“Know her name?”

“Sure. What's it worth to you?”

“Hundred credits.”

“Two.”

Better than a thousand. “Deal.”

The exchange was quick and the batarian grinned through two rows of sharp teeth. “Never introduced herself to me, but the guy who comes to visit her all the time calls her Sisi.”

“Doesn't sound human to me.”

“That's what I said. She'll respond to almost anything, though. Caught a krogan call her Meatsack and she still came running over to take his order. So if you're really interested, I think she'll let you name her whatever you want.”

Name her? Garrus stared down the batarian and felt sick that he spent two hundred credits for that tidbit of information. “I'll keep it in mind.”

“Listen, though. If your taste runs that way...you lookin' to buy a human slave? I've got connections. Might even be able to wrangle her up if you're that attached.”

Never mind. Definitely worth the credits. He let Sidonis clean up that mess.

Bartender didn't show up for work the next day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Truth be told, I LOVED Omega the first time I set foot there. I played ME2 first out of the trilogy, and walking into Afterlife was so surreal for me. Garrus doesn't like it very much, if you couldn't already tell.


	3. Devil in the Details

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You win some, you lose some. Garrus knew that expression all too well.

“Intercepted the package and slipped in my tracking chip. Should take us to the dealer.”

“Good job, Monteague. Not bad for your first mission.”

Another addition to the team. At this rate they were going to be well-rounded. He still needed a tech expert, but Monteague was familiar enough with most things that he got the job done. Still, it was a wonder to see the man manipulate something as small as a weapon-specific part that gave off a radioactive signal he could track with a scanner. Especially when said part was often coded to self-destruct when tampered with. He was also deadly with the tactical cloak that he favored, able to weave in and out of situations that would have otherwise been a storm-and-gun kind of run.

“I can make sure it gets there, no detours,” Monteague continued. “I'd prefer to have you with me, Archangel, as your sniping skills could come in handy. I'd rather play this long-range, if that's okay.”

“You do not make calls. He does.” Of course it would be Vortash who argued.

“We can come to a consensus. You aren't my pawns. We're a team. If Monteague thinks that we should play it at a distance, fine. I was looking forward to crushing the ringleader's skull under my boot, but fine. He'll get a nice, clean headshot instead.” Garrus scanned the room. “Mierin. You're up. If we can't take them all out, we'll need a failsafe near all of the exits.”

The salarian grinned. “Finally, some action!”

“Butler, you, Vortash and Sidonis will stay here. We'll keep in radio contact with updates. If we need backup, we'll request it, but the base needs to be guarded. We can't afford another relocation.”

Garrus activated the killtimer on his suit. The numbers scrolling across his visor brought him comfort. Helped him sleep at night. He didn't need to let the others know or brag much about how many lives he had taken over them. They were good, too, just maybe not as motivated as he was in order to leave a bloodbath after him. He could taste the fear and confusion of their numbers stalking the warehouse, the big bosses trying to give their men orders as they dropped in droves.

Mierin set the motion-sensored charges, almost bouncing in his seat in anticipation. He craved destruction. And so did Garrus, so long as it came with a rainbow-colored shower of blood and no survivors. Angry shouts on news reports and fearful whispers in the streets. Tear them up inside and out with nothing left.

He made a signal with his index and thumb, sending Monteague the okay. The familiar shimmer of the cloak activated. The man lined up his shot, meticulous. Steady. Good. He looked through the sliver in the roof, the torn piece of metal, and listened. Needed to pick his target carefully, to get the ringleader. The grunts would then go into a panic, a frenzy, and would rush out guns blazing. Right into the explosives that Mierin was watching with hungry anticipation.

The crack of the Mantis was always comforting, especially when the sound of the heat sink burrowing into skull and out the other end. The krogan in charge roared out in pain while his secondary nervous system kicked in. Monteague wasted no time in scanning the stumbling figure and added another shot. Another. All of them vital organs, one at a time, injuring him so that half of his body was immobile while he tried to form orders through his scaled mouth. Nothing came out but blood and garbled words no translator could decipher. He finally fell over, tough bastard, and bled out over the floor. For kicks, Monteague pinned his arms and legs with a few more rounds, and Garrus decided he and this guy were going to get along just fine.

In a flurry, the rest of the men scattered across the warehouse, the majority of them firing into nothing and wasting precious ammunition. Some grabbed the others and demanded answers. A few immediately dodged behind containers but were blasted out by Mierin and a well-tossed incendiary grenade. Armor on fire, shields sputtering, screams tearing through the walls and sending the other spineless idiots into a panic.

“Get a hold of yourselves!” one shouted, only to have Garrus drop him.

“Fuck it! Deal's off and we're coming for you bastards if any of us are left alive!”

Mierin trembled. Murmuring under his breath a near-silent mantra of _yes_.

They crossed the threshold.

Beautiful sight.

Monteague met with the others in the mess hall, chewing at some strange sort of mix of leaves on his plate. Mierin still babbled on about how glorious the explosion was, definitely encouraged with his performance and how everything went off with a hitch. The compound was in ruins, the gun dealer dead. It wouldn't be hard to track down the manufacturer now. Just wait for someone to come sniffing around to check out what happened to the deal and tail them.

“What the fuck is _that_?” Vortash growled through chunks of meat between his teeth. “Plants? I assumed humans were omnivores.”

“Surprised you know that word. I guess biology is a must for any krogan before he leaves the nest, what with the genophage and all.” Butler teased.

“I may be krogan, human, but I am not stupid. And you would do well not to speak of such things.”

“Jeez, lighten up.”

“Have your race plagued with generations of miscarriages and stillborns. Then we will talk.”

“Anyway,” Sidonis interrupted their not-so friendly banter. “Why _are_ you eating that?”

Monteague stared down at his plate and pushed his fork around the abundance of greens. “Vegetarian.”

At the prospect of an impressive sniper, with a growing list of aliens he slaughtered across the galaxy, unable to stomach the morals of meat consumption, the entire mess hall erupted into laughter.

Snipers were all about details. Picking up on minor, subtle things that others wouldn't have noticed before. Whether it was facial expressions or building layouts, it required a certain amount of perceptiveness in order to succeed. On the battlefield, with a bird's eye view, it was easy to map things out, to memorize positions. Groundside, things were a bit more challenging. Still, with a good amount of cover and a keen eye, knowing when to glance up over to gather more information, there was still a big chance to find one's target.

He gestured her over. Ordered a glass of brandy. Just something to unwind.

The muscles in her face twisted when he finished. A flicker. Something whirring behind that skull of hers, gears shifting. He saw her throat bob from the swallow she took and her shoulders slumped. With a brief, curt nod, she disappeared into the crowd and picked up the pace once she thought she was out of his line of sight.

The club was packed. Piss, vomit and alcohol, a myriad of scents that drifted over the sheer numbers of bodies in a thick fog. Just below the volume of the thundering music, there were shouts of indignation, sultry laughs, thinly veiled pick-up lines wrapped in a distinct ooze of lies. Most of the asari were sweating through their skintight clothes, avoiding the outstretched hands of the patrons, and working their way to pay for their rent. Nothing was cheap here. He could have sworn he saw a man standing by the bathrooms shaking people down for money just to take a leak. It would explain the smell.

“Sorry about the wait.”

She set down the glass on the table and he curled his fingers around it, not wanting to give the slobbering vorcha near him a chance to snatch it up. He transferred credits to the bar account and when she lingered there, hesitant to go, he made his move.

“So...Sisi...”

She froze. Stared. Fear flitted across her face. “Wh...” The words stuttered and died on her lips. She glanced around and punched something on her omnitool. “Can we...talk? Somewhere private?”

Garrus nodded and took his drink with him. “Lead the way.”

He made sure to memorize her outfit, the way she wore her hair and what it looked like from behind. He had no idea where she was leading them and didn't want to lose her in the crowd. But she avoided slamming into people and instead lightly pushed their bodies out of her way. It was a practiced motion, something learned. Ingrained.

When they were free of the crowd and near one of the private rooms, she punched in a key code, making sure to keep his eyes off the pad. The indicator flashed green. She let him go through first, scanning the rest of the room for any prying eyes.

He didn't sit down on the couch; it wasn't appropriate. Plus, he couldn't imagine how many other turians had plopped their rears there only to receive a sweaty lapdance.

She stood across from him a good few feet away and fumbled with her hair, running her fingers through the thick bangs that framed her face.

“How much?” she finally asked, quiet.

Garrus watched the emotion wash over her face, the mask that threatened to break. He didn't know much about humans yet, but it was obvious that she was in distress.

“How much do you want?” She repeated herself.

“For what?”

“My brother. You're here about him, aren't you?” The simmering fury underneath, like the scent of a crackling biotic flare ready to burst. “I told you too much. So, what? You tracked him down and now you want something from me? What did you do to him?”

“You remember me.” Confusion seeped through him. When she propositioned him, he thought that maybe she had been given the okay to dance like the asari in the club. Wrong. He shouldn't have assumed. He wasn't wearing his helmet. She had seen his face.

She jutted her jaw forward and her eyes flashed. Garrus never understood how humans could have been primal, not with their numerous vulnerabilities, but there was something vaguely predatory with the way she approached him now. Nothing like the meek girl he'd seen just moments before weaving her way in and out of this booze-infested place. Now she was ready.

“I will never forget your voice. Don't change the subject. I don't make much. This is the only job I have. But whatever you want, I'll find a way--”

He lifted his hand. The desperation in her voice was something similar he experienced with the other innocent residents of Omega. To be the cause of it? It started to make him feel queasy. He wanted to represent order and retribution, not make someone like this young human feel intimidated in any way.

“That's not what I'm here for. I don't know anything about your brother. I never bothered to track him down.”

“You...then what? What do you want?”

He chewed on his words for a moment. “I...I need to know if you were thinking of selling information to the Blue Suns. We let you get away. But your sibling is in their ranks. We can't take any chances.”

“You've been stalking the bar for that?”

His mandibles pulled in tight. He wasn't aware that she had noticed. Here he thought he was doing well under the radar.

“I'm not street smart, but I'm not stupid. I'm perceptive. You've never been in here. My job is to memorize faces and voices. Names on bills.” She paused for a minute and let out an annoyed exhale. “Do you...really think that I'm _okay_ with my brother being in the Blue Suns?”

He surveyed her and she came apart at the edges, frustration plain to see now.

“He took up the job to make money. That's it. If he doesn't work, we starve. I'm doing the best I can. Knowing he's out there, in a gang of all things...but he doesn't have any other skills. Give him a gun and he knows where to point. His attitude problem won't let him join the Alliance. We thought we could make a life out here. He did, anyway, and I followed because I...” She clenched her eyes shut. “I couldn't let him come alone.”

Garrus watched when she made a move to the couch and slumped down. Universal show of defeat, no matter what the race.

“I hate that he's a mercenary. If we had another alternative, we'd do it. So to answer your question, no. I'm not planning on selling anything to anyone, Archangel.”

She had seen his clan markings. His face, his eyes. Knew his voice. The alias strapped on with it. The only thing she didn't have was a name, something that gave him little comfort. If there was one thing he couldn't bear the thought of, it would be anyone identifying him and tracing his work here back to his family. Any old grudges like that would be hard to shake off.

“I'm not a bad person, and neither is he. But obviously I know too much.” She stood and stared him down. “Are you going to kill me?”

He exhaled. “No, that's....that's not what we do.”

“I need to get back to work then.” The insecure features went back on display despite the way that she seemed relieved in his answer. “If you need another drink...let me know.”

They walked out of the room in silence, the door locking behind them. Garrus watched her put herself back into routine, picking up right where she left off. Despite the few annoyed customers she left hanging for all of ten minutes, at least she avoided any lectures from her boss. She was unique in a place like this, completely alien. The way she looked and carried herself.

How had she survived this far?

“Girl's clean,” Garrus told Sidonis.

“You actually tracked her down?”

“By accident.”

“You think we can trust her?”

“She's not from here. Offworld. Young. Idealistic.” He didn't bother to go into the specifics of what she said, or the genuine disappointment she projected about her sibling's current career path. “It wasn't a mistake, going into that hideout. We got rid of the lab and the dealer. Killed some Blue Suns. She was lucky enough to know someone there who spared her. Just another kid swept up in this shitty world, trying to make a decent wage in order to make ends meet.”

“Case closed, then?”

He nodded once, a slight tilt of his head.

“Well, you can be the one to tell Vortash. He was thinking we should just kill her to make sure there weren't any loose ends. He's a krogan, man. They have a tough time letting things go – long memories and all that.”

“I will.”

“Get some sleep, Archangel. You need it.”

He did.

In the middle of the night, Monteague stopped by with a report. Said he managed to track down the weapons manufacturer on Omega. Big boss with a lot of resources. The guy was notorious for his illegal shipments. Supplied anyone who was willing to pay, no matter the cost, including a batarian slaver ring that had been making quite a name for itself in the Terminus.

Sometimes the weapons were good to go, just in the wrong hands.

Sometimes shipments were tampered with; the rigged guns were still sent to middlemen who made sure it got to law enforcement across space.

He couldn't imagine how many interceptions and faked receipts and credentials that had to be made in order to do that. He thought about a C-Sec officer at first, but the girl's words rang in his head and his thoughts drifted to Shepard. Young Alliance recruit with his whole life ahead of him. Given a standard issue gun, only to have it detonate in his hands when he tried to fire off the first round. In mass shipments like that, with so many soldiers learning the ins and outs, there was often no time to test the batch before handing them off.

Nothing left of the guy.

They'd catch the manufacturer. Make him use his own merchandise.

It was only right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like Archangel would be fully armored most of the time, only because people would eventually recognize his facial markings, do some digging and learn about his identity. And he seemed pretty far removed from everything he was while on Omega.


	4. A Bite

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She survived on Omega for this long. He shouldn't have been so surprised.

“Grundan Krul.”

“Archangel. Good to have you with us. We've been in serious need of a tech expert.”

“Rule one: don't bother me with asinine introductions or friendly approaches. Two: unless you have a dire need of my advice and expertise, do not speak to me directly. Three: Should you bother me when I'm at my work station, consider me gone.”

The batarian turned heel and left, Garrus watching him go with a brow plate raised. Well, he could already tell what kind of asset he'd be. Still, it was good to have another addition to the team. With the frenzy that'd been going on as of late, they needed someone to erase footage. Monteague was the only one with a tactical cloak, but the others only had their armor. And there were instances where they needed to strip things off. They couldn't risk their identities being discovered, and Garrus had a feeling that Krul was already toying with some ideas of a VI that could assist them with that.

“He's a complete dick, but he'll get the job done.” Butler grinned and continued to polish his armor. A matching set from Armax Arsenal and what he referred to as a 'sick paint job'. Unlike the cool blues that Garrus wore, a reflection of his old C-Sec uniform, Butler seemed to favor the bright, loud orange. His reason was that it was his wife's favorite color. “Besides, he fits in around here. We're all a big mash of races and personalities. Don't have to get along to get the job done if the cause is right. Right?”

Butler popped open another can of a drink that was popular with humans, something they'd invented. He called it 'pop' but others insisted it was actually 'soda'. Whatever the name, he seemed content in guzzling as much of it down as he could. Said it calmed his nerves, but Garrus was aware that it was mild addiction, and no more harmful than the cigarettes that some of the others chainsmoked.

“Going to check up on our little Sun?”

“Maybe.” Garrus paused. “It's been a while.”

“You know, I was thinking about her the other night. That girl? She sees and hears a lot of shit working in that bar. Especially because it's on Blue Sun turf. If she were to become one of our informants...hell, we sure could use a few new leads now and then. Things have gotten a little slow. Everyone's so cautious.”

“They're waiting for us to slip...” Garrus continued to strap on his own gauntlets, the idea of visiting the girl first and foremost in his mind now. “We needed Krul, and here he is.”

“A godsend for Archangel,” Butler added with a cheeky smile. “But you're right. I've been careful about coming in and out. Did a sweep down in the garage for bugs; didn't find anything. You never know, right? All it would take is one of those vorcha from the Blood Pack let off their leash long enough to slip in and plant something. But krogan aren't much about technology anyway; if I had to put a bet on it, I'd say it's Eclipse who's aching to download some cam footage of us. Any of us. They think they're sneaky, but Krul will be able to pull it off – get them off our scent, I mean.”

“He showed me what he can do. Seems promising. Just try not to get him riled up. I'll have a talk with Vortash, but he isn't too social.”

“You'd think the two of them would become fast friends then. Both totally uninterested in other people. Makes you wonder why they joined up in the first place.”

“Doesn't matter. Whether they were wronged personally or just want to prevent situations from happening, it's all the same.”

With the final seal completed, Garrus grabbed his rifle and strapped it onto his back. Just in case. He was out of his standard gear when he ran around with a mission in mind, but was still aware of just how dangerous and wild it could be.

Slow night. Only one stabbing so far.

Her shift ended soon. Might make for better conversation when she was off the clock. As much as he'd like to bring up Butler's proposal, he knew it wouldn't work out so well if there were customers shouting at her. That or her boss ended up firing her for wasting time and she was out of a job, which would have put a hole in his plan as it was. No, he could wait. Because once a sniper found a perfect vantage point, knowing that the target was sure to show, their fathomless patience was put to good use.

The batarian bartender that Sidonis took out had been replaced already. An asari who put on a few twists and tricks as part of her act to get as many of these bastards as trashed as possible. She was engrossed in mixing a drink and unaware of his presence at the bar, limiting himself to those two drinks that he always did. He ignored the jabber of the groups around him, and tried to hone in on any other thoughts to occupy his time.

She was exhausted. It was slow, but still a rough night. There was nothing routine about Omega, he reminded himself, especially not for a lone human in a bar run by aliens. She ran around the entire time trying to keep up, locking eyes with him when their gazes met from across the bar. She never approached him; too busy. He sat outside of her zone anyway to avoid any confrontation.

He paid his bill and stood up to meet her halfway. She already headed for the door, not too keen on staying a few more minutes in this workplace. He understood. Felt the same way one too many times when he was at C-Sec. Patrolling all day and filing paperwork, trying to track down leads that ended up nowhere. And everything around him would remind him of his failure and how much he hated it, from the sparkling, tranquil Presidium to the grimy lower wards teeming with crime.

“Let's not stop by the asari bakery,” Garrus told her humorlessly. The comment sounded less strained in his head, but she still shot him a half-smile. “Any other places you have in mind?”

“Are you hungry?”

“I could eat.”

“Good, I'm starving.”

Considering how abundant the turian population was, and the rest of the place was crawling with levo-based organisms, it wasn't hard to find a spot that served something for both of them. He picked a booth near the back, away from the door. Just in case he needed to scope out any new visitors; if someone from a gang stepped in, any one of them, all he would have to do was type in a message in his omnitool and wait for backup. Not that he was helpless...he just didn't quite feel like starting a shootout without a helmet.

She wasn't like Monteague. Not a vegetarian. Ordered a burger and savored the first bite. Her face turned guilty afterward.

“Something wrong?”

“It's nothing.”

She chewed and swallowed, her pace quickening. It wasn't safe to linger in unfamiliar places. He wasn't sure if this was her first time here, or if she had a bad experience. Maybe she was just exhausted and wanted to go home as soon as possible. He wouldn't waste too much of her time, so he picked up the speed of his own meal consumption.

“So...how did you...know my nickname? If you didn't find my brother, I mean.” She pressed the straw to her lips and sucked down some of the bubbling liquid. _Soda_ , he called it, and Butler's voice inside of his head automatically argued back that it was _pop_.

“Nickname...” He replied, tone flat. “The bartender. Said that was what your brother called you.”

“It's a childhood thing, only my family's ever called me that. I guess that's what tipped me off. I thought that if you...if you used it, then that must have meant you had him hostage or something.” She sighed and rubbed at her eyes, smearing some of the dark makeup that traced her lashes. “But that's not what you do. I've heard the...reports. Seen some news vids, I just never thought that you were actually real. A real person, or...turian. Whatever.” She drank some more. “If this isn't about my brother, what is it?”

Garrus finished his side dish and glanced at the clerk, who was staring at them oddly. Not very common, turians and humans associating, even in a place like this. But nothing was said to them, so he decided to stay.

“I have a proposition for you. You work at the bar. You see and hear things that others do. Plans. When they're drunk, they don't think to keep a lid on it. Normally I'd never risk a civilian with a job like this because back where I used to...” He paused. “...because in most other places, we've got detectives for this sort of thing. But Omega isn't like that; you know it isn't. I need information. You've got intel in that bar that no one else has access to. Most people are looking to get into the business or ignore it, not bring it down.”

She glanced at her hands and fiddled with her drink. Straw bumping against the ice, glass sweating from the burning bulbs swaying overhead. She licked her lips and bit down on her lower one, dull teeth digging into the skin there. Paused. Thought. Considered.

“One condition.”

One. One he could deal with, so long as the price she gave him wasn't undoable.

“You...”

She hesitated, unsure of herself. Maybe it was just nervousness, maybe it was pride. Did some of her ancestors serve in the war? If so, a little bit of pride could have been holding her back in terms of her one stipulation. It was fine. Racism or not, as long as the information was good, he didn't need to become her best friend. In fact, having a distant relationship was probably better.

“You have to make me a promise,” she finished. “A promise not to kill my brother.”

A break.

“I can't do that.”

“Why?” she pressed.

“He's a mercenary. He's the type of person we're _fighting against_. I won't turn a blind eye to someone, regardless of their future help. Do you even know what kind of deals that they make? How many lives of innocents they've taken away?”

She seemed at a loss for words, but recuperated with a few deliberate, slow breaths. “My brother isn't a bad person. Are you going to punish him for doing what he had to in order to keep us alive?”

“There's always another way,” he argued. His food was getting cold, but that was the least of his worries. The indignance in her tone, the way that her body tensed...she was serious. Serious in thinking he would take this sort of bribe from someone.

“No, there isn't.”

The atmosphere of this place, no matter how semi-cozy it had been just moments before, took a turn for the worse. And despite the stares they were sure to draw if either one of them raised their voices, he couldn't bring himself to care. This was their own world, all outside stimuli forgotten. A bubble where it was merely the two of them, sentient beings, with different upbringings and experiences, attempting to compromise on a situation where neither wanted to give. All the while he surveyed the stubbornness that she held, the air around her, similar to the one that he put on back in his rookie days trying to track down criminals. Wrapped up in red tape and shackled there while criminals got away laughing. She couldn't have possibly known the extent of his frustration, and was too inexperienced to see it for what it was.

“My brother isn't like the rest of them. He hasn't – he won't – kill innocents. He's nothing more but a grunt. They have him running errands and collecting fees from the district residents. That stunt back in the asari's place? That was his first big heist, and it went to hell anyway. He's young and good with a gun, nothing else. He isn't the one selling tainted eezo or getting kids hooked on red sand. So you want to kill him for that? Because of association?”

“This is about what's right,” Garrus countered. “There isn't any room for hesitation. He's part of a merc band. A band that has a strong grip on Omega and has done unthinkable things in order to get to the top. His work, as low as it is to you, helps them. I can't sit there and let him run around and get away with it just because you asked nicely.”

She held him there, eye contact. Humans tended to do it when they attempted to intimidate others or assert their authority. But there was something else there; it wasn't an assertion of power. Something...different. The way that the skin between her eyes crinkled and the slight downward curve of her mouth.

“Then kill me.”

His mandibles twitched. “Are you crazy?”

“Association, you said? Really? If that's your moral view, then why not go all the way? We live together. I make sure he's okay. I'm the one cooking for him and making sure he's in top shape to go out and do his job. By keeping him alive, I'm unintentionally supporting the mercenary gang, right? I'm contributing to the deaths and misery of thousands of other people on this fucking rock by trying to protect my family. I haven't done anything directly, but apparently that doesn't count for shit. Just living here with him has me guilty by association. You're all about the vigilante work. No one else is going to off me for the hundreds of crimes I've funded. So do it. Kill me.”

His tongue felt thick. His blood swam.

“I-I can't.”

“Then don't fucking lecture me about what's right. Don't lecture me for trying to keep my family together.”

She stood up, paid her bill, and left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think what we all love about Garrus is what is also really annoying about him. His whole 'black/white' take on the world. I really love how Bioware fleshed him out more as he went along in the series. Even if some of his comments in ME3 were still hard to hear.


	5. Uncertainty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Garrus sets the stage for bigger and better things.

“This wasn't the first time you've been turned down by a lady, then?” Butler laughed, lounging on the couch and tossing an apple up and down. He caught it in his palm and rubbed it on his tattered shirt, pressing his tongue on the green flesh before taking a crisp bite. “Sounds like a tough one, Arch. I think I might like her.”

Garrus scanned over the room, wondering where the others had gone off to.

Vortash said he would check up on some ration shipments that they'd gotten a hold of. Once he made sure it was all clean, having such a strong sense of smell to weed out any spoils or poisons, they were planning to redistribute the goods in Doru district. There were numerous amounts of new residents that poured in after one of the transits went out of commission. The pilot decided that instead of trying to find a way to reroute the passengers, he'd take off with their credits and slink his way off the station alone. Bastard. Garrus wasn't sure he could track the pilot down, but the least he could do was hand out the food to the people who had little else to their name but the clothes on their back and limited credits. Unless they adapted or found someone else who would let them board another ship, they'd be stranded here indefinitely.

Grul was in the garage doing his daily debugging. He hadn't found anything, but his work in setting up a security system and programming a few turrets had done a lot so far. It was better to be safe than sorry, an old human idiom Garrus picked up from his former commander.

Monteague and Mierin must have been off somewhere shooting the shit. They were off duty since the two of them had been looking for any new leads. They had something but the trail went cold after three days of stalking around and gathering intel. Three days with limited sleep meant that they deserved some down time.

Sidonis shook his head. “I still don't know about this. You asking her for help, I mean. With what you just told me, it sounds like she _would_ give us up if it meant it would protect her brother.”

“No.” Garrus shifted in his seat. “It wouldn't work that way. If she mentioned something to her brother, he'd report it to the higher-ups. In order to test his intel, they'd send him on the field to try and take us down. She mentioned he was a rookie; not very seasoned, just incredibly talented. She wouldn't want him in the direct line of fire. She...she wants him safe. She would be risking a lot as our source, and she gets that. Instead of credits, the only thing she wanted was a promise that he wouldn't be gunned down by any of us.”

Butler continued to work his way around the apple core, smacking his lips and tonguing away any of the excess juice that flowed in rivulets down his stubbled chin. “Sounds like you've already made your decision, Arch. About her. She knows what we're fighting for; she's not against it. She could sell that information to any one. You said so yourself – she knows your face and armor. Instead of passing anything along to any of the groups that'd love to get their hands on us, she's keeping her mouth shut. Hell, you got any siblings? If they were in her situation, what would they do? What would you? Would you give up plans about other people to the guy that could potentially kill the only decent person you've got left in this place?”

A brief image of Solana flashed through his mind but he stuffed it back down. He was Archangel and nothing more.

“You're too quick to trust your own kind,” Sidonis replied for him.

“Oh yeah? And if this girl was a turian, you wouldn't be willing to give her a chance? Just damn her, clap your hands, and pat yourself on the back?”

“Enough.” Garrus let out a grunt of disapproval. “Vote then. Are you comfortable with that deal?”

“It's one Blue Sun, Arch. A kid who doesn't know his head from his ass. It'd be one thing if he was a commander, or even a legionnaire, but we saw what he did at the lab. He knew he was going to die, and his only way out was to put up a front. I say, that kid won't last long anyway in that life. We don't need to be the one to end it. If it makes her feel better, sure.”

“Sidonis?”

The turian in question fiddled with his hands for a minute. “I don't...I don't know.”

“Think about it. I'll go ask the others and see how they feel.”

Vortash: no.

Monteague: no.

Mierin: no.

Krul: I don't fucking care.

Butler: yes.

Sidonis: yes.

Garrus:

* * *

 

He met her outside of one of the skycar repair shops. Her shift was just about to begin and he wanted to be there when it started, but caught sight of her when she was on her way. She had a coat on, something to keep her warm. Garrus almost forgot how low human temperatures ran in comparison to his, what little protection they had in order to shield themselves from the cold. She wrapped it around herself tighter when she spotted him, fingers curling around the fraying fabric.

“You know that outbreak of red sand overdoses?” She began, “it wasn't intended. A mistake. Mixed in a lot of different chemicals to make it less intense, but more addictive. It ended up being that more people bought it up in large doses to make up for it. Deaths everywhere. The big bosses don't seem to mind, though. Especially when they're immune to it.”

She walked with him toward the building, but away from the crowd that lingered outside the bar. He spotted some of the asari dancers filing in already. The thick scent of their perfume almost overrode the stench of grease and blood outside. Almost, but not quite.

“Apparently, the biggest dealer around is one of them. Doesn't mind if humans snort the stuff, even if his clientele is killed off in droves. Hates humans anyway, and makes a bit of cash getting them hooked and killed the old fashioned way. Friends call him Big Red - some kind of sick joke, judging by his business repertoire. One of the guys around slipped, said something like...” She pulled up her omnitool. “Thralog. Got through half of the name before they put a round in his head for being too noisy.”

His visor completed the audio recording for further investigation, and he jerked his head toward the doorway. “I'll stick around a while.”

“You don't have to. I'll be okay.”

She reached up and tucked a rebellious, thick lock behind her ear. Part of him wanted to chat more, but he knew that this wasn't the best time.

“Ping me when you're off work.”

“I'm not an expert at reading turians, but I think you need to get some rest, first. You've been staying up to meet me. We can go over details later.” She looked back over to the crowd, which grew longer and rowdier by the minute. “But before I go...you can call me E. Please don't use the nickname you heard, it's...special.”

“Sure. E, then.”

He was still up. Pacing around the base, trying to collect his thoughts. Coming up with tactical plans and formations in his head, calculations and numbers whirring. He had so much to do and it never seemed as though it was worth it. Each time he made a dent, there was always someone new to pick up the slack and get on with things. Business as usual.

The red sand was an issue. Whoever Big Red was, whatever kind of monster had been birthed and sent into the galaxy, Garrus would get him. He would destroy him. Because the bastard knew what he was doing when he made the merchandise so readily available and addictive to the humans and other races. He knew what a mess it made them with their crimson-stained teeth and muffled gasps while their nervous systems went into overdrive. It was legal on other places, other planets, with races that didn't have such an aversion. But here, with people like the refugees not having been exposed to so many drugs and tricks, he was wringing their bodies and squeezing out credits from their vulnerability.

His thoughts became jumbled and incoherent. Too many trying to fight for dominance. All of them essential, but only one to be taken at a time, even with the added manpower of his crew. He needed to prioritize. The problem was, by ignoring one problem, ten more came along with it due to him overlooking it. Drugs, weapon shipments, slavery...all of it was evil enough to warrant action. He was just one man. One man with a few followers brave enough to tag alongside him, and they all looked to him for guidance.

He heard voices beyond the wall in his room. Monteague, it sounded like, and Vortash. Surprising that the two of them seemed to get along. The krogan never liked anyone much, and openly challenged Garrus in the beginning, seeing as how he wanted to test his leadership abilities. Not that he blamed him.

In a way, he was so different from Wrex. Wrex was all about dry humor and ready to follow Shepard into whatever shitty situation they found themselves in. Vortash was less than willing to speak about anything in his past, including his accomplishments. Odd for a krogan to want to protect innocents. Stereotypical and racist thoughts, of course, but most of them were content in making credits and little more; Wrex did the same as a mercenary. But Vortash seemed adamant about doing the right thing, and not just for his people. He might have been a softy if it wasn't for the condescending way he regarded most others. Maybe it was all a front.

Garrus had to hand it to him – he was pretty damn intelligent too. Not a scientist by any means, but his insight was almost psychic in the way that he laid things out and came up with possibilities. He'd heard some of the topics of discussion between him and Mierin, and while the two should have been old enemies, they seemed fine with each other. A little standoffish at first, as getting to know new recruits was always a hurdle, but they swapped some ideas about subjects both political and existential.

Strange. An insightful krogan who still favored a violent solution by way of his big-fucking-gun.

His omnitool pinged and broke through the silence.

_My shift just ended. I hope you're asleep. I'm off tomorrow. Send me coordinates for a rendezvous if you're up for it. -E_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel that when writing this I really had a hard time creating a krogan character that was unlike what we were used to seeing. I mean, of course not all krogans are the same, but their culture IS deeply ingrained considering that everyone pretty much stems from the same planet and is raised under very hard circumstances. So it wouldn't make sense to do a complete one-eighty and have someone so "un-krogan" that the mercenary life didn't suit them.


	6. Aliases

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> New hopefuls to the crew was a good sign, Garrus thought. Maybe their luck was turning.

“Got our names on the streets. 'Cept this numbskull has a speech impediment so he couldn't say his own. I wouldn't joke about it with him, though. Gets downright nasty with people who do. So long as you laugh _behind_ his back, he'll be perfectly fine.”

“Ripper and Weaver, huh?”

“Yeah, yeah, man. It was s'posed to be Ripper and _Reaver_. But like I said, he has problems with his 'r's. Better this way I guess, we didn't want to end up sounding like some kinda freak show special. Whatever.”

If someone had told Garrus that a turian and a human would have shown up looking to be recruited, and that the pair referred to themselves as brothers, he would have laughed until he doubled over.

Yet here they were. Two orphans that ended up looking out for each other. Abandoned during a war zone and forgotten about, the two of them ran together and made a life for themselves. Instead of turning to criminals in order to get work, and taking advantage of others, they made it a point to help out any other kids trying to get by. Children raising other children wasn't as rare as one would hope.

So they made it their duty to traverse the galaxy, namely the Terminus systems, picking up the ones left behind and getting them settled somewhere better. Somewhere safer. Omega was like a dream come true for them. A crime-ridden place like this gave them opportunities for them to impact others. It came with a price, though. The gangs had already overturned most of their work and snatched up some of their more naïve groups of kids. Recruited them as mercs or sold them off into slavery. Both of them had good intentions, but wouldn't have made it in a place like C-Sec. Not with the liberal way that they handed guns and stormed into gang hideouts, slaughtering every single person and leaving no one left alive.

Ripper and Weaver. Sounded about right.

“Little guy, 'bout eight years old? Tried to pickpocket this stranger for his credit chit, got caught. We weren't around to stop him, and he had a real problem listening to us. Omega kids are stubborn. Anyway, guy who caught him broke his fucking neck. No warning. Nothin'.”

“Damn,” Sidonis hissed between clenched teeth.

Ripper went on. “Some of his friends saw it all. Followed the guy who did it and found he'd dumped the body outside the sewer tunnels. Kids like to sneak in there and play pretend, they think they're safe. In reality, that's where people get rid of corpses so the vorcha pick at 'em. That isn't a place for those kids to go, but where else are they gonna hang out? We thought about alternatives, y'know, like a shelter or school, but we don't got the creds yet.”

He ran his hand along the spines of his fringe, frustrated at the turn of events. “One of the girls mentioned this cool new hero everyone wanted to be. Archangel, they said. We did some snooping around n' got into cahoots with Mierin over there. You're a hard man to get a hold of. Kind of cool you're a turian, but it don't really matter to me. Me and my bro, we do what's right, regardless of who's in charge.”

Garrus gave them the once over. “I've got something big. Important. One of my contacts gave me the name of a batarian who lives on the station. Alias is Big Red.”

“Yeah, heard about him. What of it?”

“He's the biggest red sand dealer this side of the Terminus. And it just so happens that half of his name came out.” He repeated it aloud and let the word sink into his crew's heads. “I want a last name. From there, we can track him down. Monteague's good at that. But you two have been here the longest, so I think it's safe to say you're our best bet in gathering intel without tipping anyone off.”

“We're not exactly...subtle,” Ripper drawled. “But hey man, you can count on us to keep things on the down low. Might as well learn to, since we're rolling with Archangel now. Alright, cool. C'mon, Weav. Let's check it out.”

Krul pulled up his omnitool. “Resident names are limited, but if he's one of my own kind,  I might be able to pull a few tricks. Just keep out of my way while I work.” He stalked off, both sets of eyes glued to the holographic interface, and scrolled through an insurmountable data cache.

“Sidonis, Butler, Monteague. You're coming with me. We're meeting up with our contact.”

As much as Garrus wanted to play things quietly, meeting up with one human every other week did look a bit strange. His kind didn't actively seek the company of the other race, especially with the opposite gender, and attracting attention was the last thing he needed. Instead, he figured that he could play it off as a mere set-up. Maybe he was scoping out the bar and found a decent enough girl to introduce to his friend. Something like that. As far away from the truth as possible, but much better in terms of her protection. Because nothing spelled suspicion like two incompatible species spending so much time together after hours and on the clock.

“You might fall in love with her yet,” Butler teased Monteague. “Who knows? She might be smokin' hot.”

“Not interested.”

“What? Why?”

“Not my type.”

“But you haven't even seen her yet--”

“I know enough.”

Butler stared. Blinked. “Oh. _Oh._ Well, why didn't you say so? I can act starstruck. If it makes you uncomfortable, I'll be the one to flirt with her.”

“It doesn't make me uncomfortable. I'll just be professional about it.”

Things to do besides drink and eat on Omega: nonexistent. They met up with her outside of a smoke lounge. She shot a smile of recognition toward Garrus and kept a wary eye on the rest of them. He let her know that some friends would be joining them, but didn't go into details. She seemed on guard; that was to be expected. It was refreshing to see that she wasn't naïve enough to believe that she could trust him implicitly.

She settled into her chair, Monteague on her right. They sat around the table and ordered some drinks. Butler was all about his pop. Sidonis was interested in trying some of the smokes that they had, and shelled out a couple of credits for that instead. E wasn't too concerned about what she ordered, preferring to keep her head on straight, so she merely traced the rim of her glass with the tip of her finger.

“Tell us about your brother,” Garrus began.

“He's about six feet tall. Nothing off about the standard uniform. The only way you'd be able to recognize it's him at all is the custom paint job on his gun.” Her lips curled into a smile and she seemed uncaring of Monteague's feigned interest in her. She caught on quick. “It's your standard issue E-15 Vindicator, except he painted it green. Has a big stencil of a 'U' on the side. He would put it on his helmet, but it's noticeable, and the Suns are anything but lenient when it comes to the uniform. They have regular inspections about it, something about deceiving the gang and how it could be anyone in the suit. Everyone calls him Chief, but his real name's Rai.”

She shifted and Monteague watched her profile. She was uncomfortable underneath, but hid it well. No one looked twice at the mishmash of aliens now, because the female of the group was tucked under her respective species' arm.

“I can send you a pic if you need to know specifics, but I'd guess that if you do run across him, he'll have his helmet on. We don't look very much alike, so if you need it, let me know.”

Garrus nodded. “We're looking into the situation you told us about before. You did good in giving us that info. Whenever you have something, ping me. I'll take care of it. Even if it's something small. And if I don't respond right away, send a copy to any of these guys. They've been with me for a while and they've done the most for our cause. I trust all of my men, but these three earned my respect through jobs and their attitude.”

“What, even though Monteague didn't want you wasting your time with her?” Butler laughed. “Playing favorites, I see.”

“If I get results, we'll meet up privately to talk more about your situation. I'm doing this for information, but I am _not_ okay with it.” Garrus waved his hand and dispersed the smoke that Sidonis puffed out next to him. It smelled metallic and bitter, much like blood, so he didn't care for it. “We'd find some place private. Public is fine, but I don't care much for the stares we might get. So just let me know what you think would be best and I'll look into it.”

“What about the base?”

Garrus shot Butler a look. “If she proves herself, then no problem. Until then...”

* * *

Thralog Mirki'it.

Big Red.

He had his base behind some civilian apartments. Fucking bastard.

Garrus took the entire crew with him. They needed all able bodies to participate. With a complex this large, with so many innocent lives at stake with one misplaced bullet, it was the most delicate operation he'd been in.

Shepard once lectured him about rules and lives. Disagreed with him when he tried to track down “Dr. Heart”, saying that C-Sec made the right call in not risking the death of the hostages by pursuing the ship. He hated hearing those words from his commanding officer's lips, as it was an echo of the same lesson that his father tried to ingrain in him through adolescence to his young adulthood. What was the point? he remembered thinking. He could save so many more lives in taking the risk. Letting the bastard go was unforgivable.

Now, scanning the perimeter of the base and making a mental count of how many guards were posted up outside, Garrus saw the scale depicted before him. If he couldn't kill Thralog today, and the bastard got away with a new relocation, and Garrus harmed more than one person in the process, he wouldn't be able to forgive himself. These people saw him as a beacon of hope, a person they could trust. Betraying that by putting them in danger in order to catch the criminal...it wasn't worth it.

But he promised himself this: if Thralog got out, and he managed to slip out during the crossfire, Garrus would find him. Either way, the batarian was going to die,and there was no red tape holding him back. He would not be merciful. Not after patrolling through the alleys and grungy walkways around the station and watching so many succumb to the drug. Hallucinating, trying to boost their nonexistent biotic abilities, subjecting their bodies to immediate degradation for a brief high. A man who reaped the benefits of destroying hundreds and thousands, if not millions, of lives...

He would feel every one he took. That Garrus promised, in a silent nod toward all of the communities ensnared for a mere profit.

All of his men were in position.

Time to clean house.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> While rereading this I honestly noticed a distinct lack of Sidonis. I think that part of the reason why was because we already know his story. We can imagine what he was like, enough that we understand why Garrus took his betrayal so personally. Hopefully by looking into the possibilities of the other members of his squad they'll seem more relatable instead of just names mentioned in the Shadow Broker's dossier.


	7. Victory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two people get a taste of their own medicine.

Two guards. Front entrance.

Plasma grenade liquified them.

Alarms and security cams disabled.

Nothing to tip them off. Vortash moved the line of offense with Ripper and Weaver, the three of them securing any possible exits. Windows and doors.

Butler circled the building. Found a structural weakness.

Mierin planted a charge and set it.

The foundation snapped and crumbled, strangled screams bellowing from inside.

A few guards rushed out to get rid of the intruders, or stop the fire.

Vortash blew one's head clean off his shoulders with his Claymore.

Ripper preferred his heavy pistol, hands steady while he placed two calculated shots in the duo that scrambled toward his area.

Weaver didn't fuck around, deadly with a barrage of ammunition. His assault rifle punched holes in armor and shields, tearing anyone down who came into his path. He was a whirlwind of destruction, walking forward, aim steady and true.

Sidonis made it inside first, now seasoned and dependable. He cleared any stragglers and killed a few biotics hiding and waiting to throw out a warp or pull field. He always seemed to have a sixth sense when it came to recognizing a biotic amp in the vicinity, and he weeded out the rest. None of them had a chance with his submachine gun, a cocky grin on his face while he dropped them one after the other.

Fighting up the stairs would have been a death sentence, but Monteague found his way on the roof. His steps were light and he broke into the second floor, picking off any of the guards that wandered in his sights. He made some modifications to his cloak and had dropped all five of them before it gave out. When it did, he confirmed his position over the comm and went to override the security lock on the doors, letting the rest of them up.

Two floors down and only a few places for Thralog to be hiding. No doubt in the back of the hall, waiting for them all. Butler stayed back with his helmet on, filtering out the dust from the red sand. He started to get hives but grinned through the discomfort, making way for Garrus so he could lead the assault.

The last room was surrounded. Monteague perched himself on the balcony near the window. It was a decent-sized drop, so Thralog didn't even think about it in the two seconds he had to consider it. Each of Garrus' men took position and checked their corners, picking off any survivors who tried to gun them down or run.

No civilians, all mercenaries – and not a Blue Sun in sight. They were good to go.

Thralog Mirki'it held no fear. No remorse, just as E had told him. After all this time hunting down crime lords, Garrus thought he might get used to it. What kind of experiences and genetics made it so that people like this even made it through life? How many others did they step on? It bothered him that the batarian in front of him seemed unflappable, unperturbed at the series of events. He merely gave a sharp, toothy grin and laced his hands together, resting his wobbling chin on top of them at his desk. His back was to the window, Monteague peering in with a rifle aimed just so. A clean shot. But that wasn't what Garrus wanted, not with how much merchandise he saw downstairs. Not when the thought of those civilians, those people out there, completely helpless to this man's whims and entertainment, plagued him. He couldn't give this guy the easy way out. He was loaded, rich, wealthy, and all of it from the deaths that he caused. What did he have to show for it? His entire squadron was dead, slaughtered before his eyes, and he offered the killers nothing but a smile in return. The people who died for him held as little significance as those who funded his standard of living.

“How much are you looking for? It's been quite some time since someone caught me off guard. I'd love to know who squealed.”

He was mortal. He could die. Despite the scar that ran down from the crown of his head to his lower lip, and the smirk that said otherwise, this man could be destroyed. He thought of himself as a god or a being whose existence mattered – weighed – more than others. That was why even in the face of death, with everyone willing to slit his throat and watch him choke on his own blood, he still tried to offer them a way out. With a casual tone that made Garrus' plates itch.

“This isn't about money, Thralog, but this _is_ about repaying your debts.”

On the desk there were a few sacks of his merchandise. Probably the strong stuff, and just for him, while he shipped out the tainted shit out for the rest of the population. Garrus approached it and opened the bag, peering inside. Predictable. It was refined, slipped through his gloved fingers, dusty and chalky in its consistency. High-class, quality drugs that would send a lesser human into a brief moment of euphoria before pushing them into cardiac arrest.

“My debts? I'm a businessman, simple as that.” He continued to smile, lowering his hands down so they could see the extent of it. “We all need to make ends meet, don't we? I merely found success in something that isn't legal in most council space. Such a shame that aliens don't know how to limit themselves.”

“Right. Limiting. Because that's the key, isn't it? Or is it...making the stuff as highly addictive as possible, and encouraging your clientele to purchase more than their bodies can handle while you clean out their pockets? I wonder if you'd know how hard it would be to slip up.”

Monteague, cloaked and creeping on the unsuspecting batarian, slipped over and slapped on a few bindings. The batarian jerked from his seat and immediately tried to jiggle his hands loose, which were now attached to the arms of his chair. The smile was still there, the confidence not ebbing away in the slightest, and he still insisted on trying to make a deal.

“Your crew is impressive. I would pay a nice load of creds for you boys to join my ranks. And I do give a little bit of a discount if you want to sample my goods. Not so much for the humans though, you're useless to me if you get hooked on the stuff, and junkies don't make for good bodyguards. Still, I'm sure I could find you something to do. So what would you like?”

Garrus picked up the bottom the sack and started toward him. Looming. “I'd like for you to sample your stuff. Indulge yourself. You've earned it.”

Monteague tipped the chair back. The batarian stared at the ceiling and realization took hold. His mask cracked down the middle, right along the edges of his scar tissue.

“Think of how much you could make. All you ever wanted. I won't beg you. I won't give you the satisfaction. I won't even _flinch_ for you.”

But he did.

His eyes were held open, both sets, lids fluttering while he tried to blink.

He let out a strangled scream when the red sand made direct contact, seeping into his pores and into his bloodstream.

He struggled and pulled at the bindings, back arching.

Mouth opened in a yell with profanities that only made it out halfway.

Every gritty grain of it settled and found its way back home, the drugs trickling in and weaving into his system.

Blood soaked it when he coughed, his teeth stained when he tried to sputter it out.

Garrus kept going until his body wracked with shudders. His muscles tensed, spasmed, and his muffled shouts were drowned out by the deafening silence of his own impending death.

* * *

 Mierin, being a salarian, was their designated.

Everyone else was ready to get trashed.

They split up at the bar into two groups, if only to lower any suspicions. Krul assured them, with a pointed glare, that he had combed through the security footage and deleted any trace of evidence. Though they were all dressed in armor, people would have counted the approximation of their crew. So far? One krogan, three turians, three humans, a salarian and a batarian. That kind of group was otherwise unheard of, and sounded like the start of a bad joke, so they decided to play it safe.

Garrus sat at the table with Sidonis, Butler, Ripper and Weaver. Monteague was with Mierin, while Vortash and Krul were riding it solo. The salarian was happy to celebrate with some kind of sweet syrupy liquid that was non-alcoholic, which let the others put their guard down for just one split second. Well, except Monteague. The vegetarian sniper apparently preferred to stay sober as well. Whatever the case, it was a chance for them all to unwind.

One moment of pride and celebration for a well-earned victory.

He sipped at his glass and scanned over the bar. E's information was good, and it was the first big break they'd had in a while. He invited her down to celebrate with them and she had confirmed that she would be stopping by, if only just for an hour or two.

“There she is, right over there,” Butler nodded.

“Fuck, man,” Ripper laughed. “No wonder she's not a dancer.”

“S'that supposed to mean?” Sidonis slurred.

“Man, you never been around humans much, huh? That girl got the worst of her gene pool. I been around a lot of human women, 'cuz you wouldn't believe it, but there are a few freaks out there who like the feeling of plates against skin.” His mandibles twitched in delight at the fond memories. “So I know what's considered attractive in their species. That ain't it.”

Butler angled toward the green-eyed turian. “She's not _that_ bad. Besides, she seems nice.”

“Yeah, the nice ones are always ugly.” Ripper tipped his can back. “General rule: you either put up with a hot bitch or fuck an ugly saint.”

Garrus tried to see what Ripper did, but didn't have much experience in what humans generally considered attractive. It was all alien to him. The excess number of fingers and toes, the jiggly bits, all smooth lines and no hard angles. He wasn't about to badmouth a potential ally, though, and it wasn't his place to speak. He merely gave the other turian the equivalent of a frown of disapproval.

“Nice to see you again, E,” Butler called out cheerfully. “Hope you didn't forget me.”

“Of course not. I like your armor too much.”

“See?” He turned to Garrus with a smug smile. “ _Told_ you orange was my color.”

“I'm Ripper, and this is my bro, Weaver.” The turian's subharmonics quivered with laughter. Sidonis glanced at Garrus with an unimpressed look. “So, how 'bout a drink?”

“Um, sure. I was going to grab something from the bar. Did any of you need a refill?”

“You're not working tonight. Come on, relax,” Butler protested. “Rough night?”

E didn't move from her spot, standing near the table. She seemed rooted there. Her body language was off, like she was uncomfortable at the notion of spending time with them. “Sort of. I'll tell you guys about it later. But don't worry about me, I heard the good news.”

“Take a load off, you're making me nervous.” Ripper continued to snicker at her in his undertones, not even bothering to hide it now. It crept up to the range where the humans could hear it, which meant he wasn't trying to be subtle. He couldn't help but tease the poor girl and she was less than six feet away.

Without any warning, Weaver stood up from his seat. His move was so abrupt that it pushed the table backwards, and all the full glasses that rested there swayed, clanked together, and threatened to tip over. Sidonis instinctively shot a hand out and wrapped it around his drink, opting to nurse it from his lap now at the human's sudden outburst.

Weaver turned to his adoptive brother. “Asshole,” he ground out, voice guttural and low.

Not bothering to explain himself, or even emit any other noise, he stepped away from the group. His hand locked around E's and he pulled her away, the two of them lost in the crowd together. Their bodies disappeared among the countless others who were there tonight.

“First word he's ever said, and he puts you in your place. Weaver is bad-fucking-ass!” Butler hooted. “My new hero!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *imagines Garrus using one-liners as Archangel* nice
> 
> On another note, I just wanted to thank everyone reading this. I know most fandoms tend to focus on certain pairings in fics and shy away from anything else, so it's really awesome you took the time to click this and humor me. 
> 
> As someone that put off posting fiction publicly for years, it is nice to come back after so long.


	8. Background

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Garrus learns more about E.

“So wait – _wait –_ you-you...hold on, I'm...laughing too hard! Aw, shit!”

Butler held his stomach and struggled to support his body weight on the corner of the wall. Most of his words were jumbled and incoherent, especially with the way that the snorts kept interrupting him midsentence. He doubled over and couldn't stop the tears that pricked at his eyes either.

“It isn't fucking funny, dickwad,” Ripper snapped.

“Let me get this straight.” His vocals quivered but he managed to keep a straight face. “Your brother gave you the equivalent of a broken nose? That's what that is?”

Ripper held himself back from striking him. “My nasal ridges were mangled, so yes. And if you don't stop laughing, _I will fucking tear your head off_.”

Garrus was surprised to wake up and find Ripper stalking around the base with medical gauze wrapped across his head. Nasal ridges were incredibly sensitive, as the plate density there was thinner than anywhere else on the face. It was known during CQC training that if you were in a bind, a nice headbutt upwards or roundhouse kick would surely fracture or even shatter that delicate spot. But to hear that a human managed to punch him hard enough to cause that kind of injury? Impressive.

“He really beat you up for that?”

“Apparently my brother is in love with her. Now shut up and leave me alone.”

Well that was a surprise. Garrus watched as Ripper shot him an indignant huff and walked away. He'd heard from Monteague that E and Weaver had danced last night, and he made her forget all about his brother's rude welcoming, but he didn't think it had gotten that far. The guy had barely spoken since he joined and last night was the first outburst or any indication of emotion he'd seen outside of battle. Weird. What did they even talk about, if at all?

“Told you she wasn't that bad looking!” Butler continued to goad him from his spot on the wall. “I'm glad he knocked some sense into you.” After a moment of silence, he pulled his shoulders up and set them back down with a sigh. “Anyway, what's up, Arch? Heard any news from our inside source?”

“Yeah. She's coming today. Said she needed to speak with me.”

“Oh? So the 'no girls allowed' rule's been waived from the clubhouse? Nice!”

Garrus shook his head. “She proved herself with the information. I thought about it last night. The other guys only had to contribute to some trial runs and they were let into the base. She's a civilian and risking her neck for us, so I might as well find some trust to lend her. It's safer talking here than in public, anyway. Krul can't exactly shadow me everywhere when it comes to security.”

“Well, I'm gonna go tell Weaver that his crush is coming to visit. You should've seen the way he looked at her last night, when we were leaving? I'm pretty sure he's in love.”

Garrus was baffled. “After one meeting?”

“Yeah, us humans are pretty fickle like that. Don't worry though, doesn't look like it's reciprocated. She seems more interested in staying alive than making out with grizzly guys like us. Which is good; there isn't a lot of room for survival and relationships on Omega. I'm just talented like that. She needs to worry more about herself.” He thought a moment. “Or _maybe_ , just _maybe..._ she's hung up on someone else! Ripper did say that some human girls are into aliens, never met one myself, but...”

“Okay, that's going a little too far,” Garrus laughed. He was surprised at how effortless it felt to do so. “We're just trying to clean up Omega. We don't need any more drama, especially in the romance category. Don't go trying to set anyone up.”

E found the base alright. She was cleared in the first floor with Krul, who had been tinkering down there doing who-knows-what. Garrus was surprised to hear that the batarian didn't tear her to pieces for interrupting his work. He just gave her the okay after a quick scan and sent her upstairs with some crude verbal directions. It might have been something to do with the bad blood between their races in the past, but he wasn't about to pry.

“Sorry for being late,” she apologized right away. “I took a wrong turn and had to backtrack until I saw the sign you were talking about.”

“It's fine. I'm glad you're here.”

Garrus ushered her over to one of the rooms that they used for conferences and debriefing. It was a few paces away from the kitchen, with a holographic board for them to pull up images and data. Around the room there were pics of some gruesome scenes and criminal mug shots, which looked to be old C-Sec material. She wasn't going to ask how they managed to retrieve that information, but settled herself in the chair nearest to the door.

“Before we get into whatever it is you need to tell me, I want to know more about you.”

E lifted a brow. “Like what?”

“Your story. How you ended up on Omega. You seem like a good kid.”

“Kid?” she asked flatly. “I can't be more than five years younger than you.”

“Sorry. I didn't mean it like that. What I mean to say is, you don't belong in a place like this, so how did you manage to get yourself here?”

She went quiet for a moment and looked down at her hands. “I...I haven't really talked with anyone about it.”

“Take your time, but I need to know your situation.”

The room went silent for a moment while she collected her thoughts. “I...my brother and I grew up on Earth. A tiny little place in the middle of nowhere. It used to be a strategic military base, up until the Alliance relocated after the First Contact War. But it was still overcrowded. Hundreds and thousands of people moved there in order to have a better life because of some technicalities with citizenship.

“There wasn't anything left for us there after so many native people left. My parents said they were trying to find a colony that would take us, and we got a report of one that was looking for able bodies. Anyone young enough to reach this colony, and work for a minimum of six standard galactic months, could then send for their families. It was expanding fast and didn't need older generations, just those who could still reproduce. I thought it was a good idea, but my brother wasn't into it. He wanted to become a mercenary and just bounce from place to place. Typical adolescent viewpoint, not bothering to think about his future or ours.

“I've never traveled through space by myself, just family vacations sometimes like to the Citadel. But those trips were few and far between. When my brother said he was leaving, I told him that I wanted to go with him. I had to look out for him and thought that maybe if I convinced him during our travel, then he'd come back with me. So we both agreed that we'd try to book passage on the next flight to the colony, and when we stopped by a fuel depot, he would get off by himself and let me go the rest of the way alone.

“When we got to the station, we...missed our flight. Some kind of mix-up. We were put on a waiting list, except we were never called. I needed to make the deadline to the colony regardless, and the next trip wasn't going to be for another week or so. My brother...he tried to hustle some tickets out of a few other people standing around, but no one would budge.

“We were eating lunch and trying to figure things out when this guy approached us. Batarian. Said that he heard about our mishap and he didn't have a problem with us catching a ride on his ship, so long as we stayed in the cargo hold. I wasn't okay with it, I mean, what was an alien doing on our home planet, on this small little island that no one cared about aside from political reasons? But we were...we were desperate. I was. Rai didn't really care too much about the colony prospect, but he did want to get off the island as soon as possible, and the guy was offering to take us.

“My brother isn't stupid. A little dense, sometimes, but not stupid – at least, not when it came to things like this. He asked questions. Tried to get it out of him. But the whole story checked out. Something about them using our island for local goods to export through space, a shit ton of food and supplies that other worlds didn't have. He made it sound he was a humanitarian, a guy just looking to help us out when we needed him the most. Asked me my name, and said he thought I was...”

She hesitated. “He was polite. Offered to let me stay in one of the rooms above cargo, but I said I needed to keep an eye on my brother. We headed to his ship and he let us on no problem. Showed us where we would be sleeping. No one else was down there but us, so we got ourselves comfortable on a few cots.

“We left Earth's atmosphere and it was quiet for a couple of days. The guy – I wish I could remember his name – he checked up on us a few times. Brought us some food. We asked if maybe we could head up and get it ourselves, but he insisted that he really didn't think it was a good idea. The captain didn't want anyone on board aside from his crew, so we were like a dirty little secret.

“But like I said, Rai is...he knows when not to trust people. He got really angry at this batarian coming down. Said he swiped something from the guy's pocket when he wasn't paying attention. It was a datapad. With our descriptions in a transmission sent to a...a buyer. We were on a fucking slave ship. The entire ship, top to bottom, housed thousands of people just like us, and we were just over the limit that he threw us down in the cargo hold. And not just because we were a last minute pick-up, but we were _special._ We were the youngest and most promising he had, and we were going to be auctioned off and sold as soon as we hit the next station in the goddamned Terminus!”

Her hands were clenched into fists and her face was flushed. He thought it only happened to the humans with lighter skin tones, but it was still possible for her when she was angry enough. She sucked in a breath and tried to soothe herself before going on.

“When he came down the next day, he wasn't aware that we knew. Said they'd be making a pit stop at a depot and needed us to head upstairs while they restocked some things. Not more slaves, I don't think, but maybe more food rations or weapons. He gave me an offer to stay in his room again and I said no. My brother got this funny look on his face and he...

“He grabbed his gun and shot him. Right between the eyes. His body crumpled to the floor and I just started _screaming_. I didn't know what to do, but my brother told me to shut up. Said he needed to think. Rifled through his pockets and grabbed the ammo. Together we stripped the batarian out of his armor. I helped him put it on. I never knew how hard it was to move so much dead weight, but we stashed the body near some of the food vats, hid it away really well.

“The ship docked and we needed clearance to exit through the cargo hold doors, so my brother fired up the guy's omnitool near the console. Thankfully, it cleared. When the...the doors opened for us in this huge warehouse, we just ran. We didn't think twice. He grabbed my hand and led me out of there. No one asked questions, no one stopped us, all because of the insignia on the armor he stole and the gun strapped on his hip.

“We were outside of Council space. No extranet connection. On a place where they were sure to track us down once they found out what was going on. We wandered around, as far away as we could from the docking bay, and came across this recruitment line.”

Garrus regarded her, voice hushed. “The Blue Suns.”

“They needed some fresh meat; a bunch of their men were killed in some kind of recent gang war. Their headquarters were on Omega, and he looked just right for the job. So long as he proved his worth. Just a little jump in. A tiny beat in.”

E stroked her collarbone, a faraway look in her eyes. It was obvious what kind of mark they made on him, then. “The scars are deep, I don't think they'll ever go away.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My favorite part about this is Garrus taking Butler's words so seriously. Given that he really only traveled with Shepard for such a short amount of time, I feel like he would've gotten a lot more of his knowledge about humans from his time on Omega.


	9. Downtime

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not everyone is as they seem, Garrus notes. He has a lot to learn about aliens.

“You can vouch for this one, Vortash?”

“We have worked together for nearly thirty years. He has been my security consultant in multiple high-risk situations.”

“Pretty big opinion you have for a human,” Ripper muttered.

“And you do not? Look at your present company. Were I to guess what species you were based on your mannerisms, I would say you are more human – a neanderthal – than your own brother. Do not lecture me on such things, turian.”

The doors opened and an older human entered with a single duffel bag strapped across his chest. He was...older than Garrus expected, with the sort of hardset face that reminded him a lot of his father. With his long salt and pepper hair swept backwards and the drooping skin along his more prominent features, it was obvious how many more years he had under his belt than the rest of them. Krogan notwithstanding, of course. Odd how humans changed so radically while they aged, the wrinkles that adorned their skin and the weariness woven into their bones. Yet, he had a sharp look behind those gray eyes, and it made him all the more intimidating.

“Erash,” Vortash rasped with a laugh, clapping his comrade on the shoulder with a little more brute force than necessary. “You decrepit old man.”

Butler elbowed Garrus, nearly hitting him in the waist. “Erash and Vortash. Huh. Sounds like they _would_ be besties. Wonder if they were ever an epic duo like those two numbskulls over there?” He thumbed toward the turian and human 'brothers', both standing in an almost identical pose.

“Show me to my quarters and we can reminisce later. I have traveled far too long for us to delve into old memories now.” Erash stepped forward, extending a stiff hand. “I am under the impression _you_ are our esteemed leader. I defer to your judgment, naturally. Should you have concerns about the...defenses of this place, or questions of schematics concerning local buildings, I will do my best to analyze it for our benefit.”

Garrus shook it and was nearly taken aback by how firm it was, despite the presence of gauntlets and gloves between them. Erash shot him a sly smile in response, as if he had been anticipating the turian's reaction.

“Welcome aboard. We're glad to have you. Vortash insisted you take the room near his, so I think he'll let you know where you'll be staying. We can talk more tomorrow.”

“Of course.”

Ripper shot an incredulous look at his brother, and let out a long, low groan. It was true, Garrus thought with amusement, how human he was. Funny how much a turian could learn merely by observation and nurture. He would have both fascinated and offended a lot of higher-ups back home.

“So...Weav wants to know when E's coming around next.”

“Tomorrow, actually. She said she had something for me.”

“Hear that?” Ripper answered with a smug sigh. “Not for _you._ For our big ol' leader. Because I told you, chicks dig guys in power. S'why I get all the ladies, because they admire my confidence. If you got over your speech impediment, they wouldn't have a problem bouncing on your dick instead.”

Weaver stared at him. Hard. He swallowed and glanced around the room. It was just the three of them. Him, his brother, and Garrus. His brow furrowed and the hands at his sides clenched and unclenched. He was frustrated, and the words were right there on the tip of his tongue, but he couldn't bring himself to say it. That was, until Ripper made a move to leave.

“She weminds me of my mother.”

Ripper's mandibles spread wide, the turian equivalent of a human jaw dropping. “ _What?”_

“Mother was like her. Quiet, but smawt. Shy. Wowked hawd for us. Pwotective, too. A weal woman.” His voice went quiet at the end, and his chest collapsed in a deep heave. “But vulnewable, too. Not as tough as the west of us.”

Silence hung in the air. “Shit, man. I'm – I'm sorry. I didn't think it was anything like that.” The pain in Ripper's subvocals was clear to Garrus from both the mortified undertones and genuine concern to his words. He'd never heard the other turian be quite so solemn before, and he almost sounded wounded. A keen caught in his throat, too.

“Now you know.”

“Yeah, I...I got it. I swear, I'll stop teasing her. I wasn't serious about it. I just didn't get it because, you know, she wasn't my type. But you didn't see her like that.”

“I alweady told her. So she knows.” Weaver shrugged, and it was refreshing to see the hulk of a man now unafraid to showcase his insecurities. At nearly seven feet tall, the defeated slump of his shoulders and embarrassed look that flitted across his face did seem childlike. “Said it didn't bother her.”

Both of Ripper's brow plates lifted in surprise. “Okay. That definitely makes me like her a lot more now. Here I thought she was just trying to play the victim card. But if she means that much to you, then you know I'll do my best to support you, man.”

“Thanks.”

Garrus wondered what other similarities that Weaver saw in E. Was there anything in her physical appearance that reminded him of his mother too? Or was it just her personality trait, the quiet acceptance she held when Ripper had given her such a cruel reaction, that set him off? It was strange to hear those adjectives describe someone he barely knew. She'd told Garrus about her past, how she got to the station, but didn't want to overwhelm him. After her small spiel, she apologized and said she had to head home. He wanted to know a bit more to get a full grasp, only because as far as experiences went, it wasn't as bad as he thought it would be. Narrowly escaping a slaver ring was a hell of a story. Hers never even entailed the psychological and physical torture that others had in the past. She was one lucky woman.

E was on time her second try. She seemed like the type of person to be punctual, especially when facing the hot-and-cold demeanor of her bosses at the bar. She held this sort of professionalism that wasn't worth much on the station. He appreciated it all the same. Despite their early misgivings with each other, she wasn't anything he had expected. A rational, trustworthy source was rare in normal circumstances. She seemed determined to make up for any inconveniences she made for them for her brother's protection.

“Conference room?”

“Sure. Unless you wanted a tour.”

“I think I'm okay. I don't want to bother anyone.”

They settled down across from each other and she bit down on her lower lip, slipping something on the desk. It hit the surface with a sharp clatter in the otherwise silent room. Garrus reached out and ran his finger along the edge, peering at the script that was imprinted on its transparent screen.

“That's...”

“The datapad that your brother stole?” He blinked. “I can't believe you kept it.”

“He considers it a trophy. Its owner was his first kill.”

The information was outdated, but still workable. There was a ton of intel on there. Names of clients who were looking for slaves, drop-off points, workers in the area. On a whim he selected the coordinates for Omega and, sure enough, the identities of several local dealers came up, complete with profiles and levels of reliability. He surveyed the names of the deceased, slaves who never quite made it across the journey from ailments such as starvation, dehydration, suicide...spirits, the things that they had suffered through. He soaked it all in.

“I know it might not be worth much. But you might be able to cross-reference with another database or from any other of your sources. I've tried to pick something up at the bar, but things have been slow. It doesn't help that I work on Blue Sun turf, and they seem a little hesitant to start anything new, what with Big Red murdered and all. Their words, not mine. If I was somewhere on neutral ground, I might have a bigger shot, but I doubt anyone would see me as a positive investment.”

She babbled now, unsure of herself. He was almost positive that it was because he didn't have the same range of facial expressions as those of her kind did, so he had to take a verbal – and more direct – approach.

“This is good. More than good. It might be old, but it's still something. We've been at a standstill too. A group not making moves means that we don't have clues to pursue them. So while we wait for them to get comfortable, we can do this as a side project.” He held it up for emphasis. “Slave trading is still a huge problem, especially here. And I hate those bastards a lot more than just your average grunt, so it'll be refreshing to hit that trade.”

She smiled at him, less disheartened than she was a few moments before. “Um, glad I could help. Really. I'm sorry I'm asking for so much. With my brother and all.”

“We can talk more about that later. Before you go, though, I think you should stay for lunch. Mierin's a great cook, as weird as it is, and even the dextro-friendly stuff he makes is more than decent. Better than ration bars, I'll tell you that.”

Her body squirmed in her seat. “You don't think it's too much? I don't want to bother any one here. I know there are still some people who don't want my help at all.”

“They look to me as their leader, so I get final say. Besides, Weaver was looking forward to spending some time with you.”

“Oh. Okay.” E's face brightened up even more at that notion.

Mierin, a demolition expert who reveled in the sheer destructive force of explosions, was one hell of a cook. Putting him in front of a heat source like an oven just sounded like a bad idea, but the galaxy still managed to surprise Garrus once in a while. The salarian was in a frenzy while he gathered ingredients and started a million different projects all in one time frame. And when E offered to help, he shooed her off, saying that he had a “system” going and that she would ruin his flow by intervening. His words weren't meant to be insulting, and although she was a bit taken aback, she didn't take it as such.

“You've sure come a long way from that dirty alley in Gozu District,” Butler laughed, passing her a can of _pop_. He didn't bother correcting her when she requested _soda_ after he'd asked her what she wanted to drink. “Back then, I was under the impression that you were going to be nothing but a pain in our ass. But you helped us take down a big name here, and for that, I'm glad to share my one addiction with you.”

So he finally admits it _,_ Garrus thought, amused.

“I felt the same.” Sidonis passed her a plate with a sheepish grin. “The circumstances were strange, nothing I'd ever dealt with before. But what can I say? Guess we needed a little bit of a feminine touch.”

“There's still room for an asari commando if you need me to go on a bar hop,” Ripper offered. “Just say the word. Those ladies can't keep their hands _off_ me.”

Monteague sipped at his water. “I've yet to see any of your courting tactics. I'm ninety-five percent convinced it's all a front. Tell me, when's the last time you were graced with a woman's presence? Since you joined our ranks, that about right?”

The entire table erupted into laughter. E was polite enough not to be as boisterous as the others, but held her giggles in with a hand clamped over her mouth. (Later on, Butler would tell him it was what humans did when they were self-conscious of themselves.)

“I've been _busy_!” Ripper shouted, failure written in his undertones.

His eagerness to debunk Monteague's observation only made it that much more hilarious.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys got the gist of Weaver's speech impediment. I didn't want to overdo it in his dialogue and have it come off as comical. 
> 
> Also, Ripper still makes me laugh years later. Like how extra can he be?


	10. Whittle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> His days can change in an instant. Roll with the punches, Shepard would have said.

“Did you ever let your parents know about what happened? Or have they assumed the worst?”

E paused for a moment to consider his words. Her touch was gentle, almost too much. Her fingers splayed across his plates while she tried to get a good look at the wound. It wasn't serious, something that could be cured with just a bit of medigel and bandages. She must have had experience in dealing with these sorts of wounds with her brother to be okay with it. That or she had been reading up on techniques and observing diagrams. He was positive that the former was more likely.

“I manage to get a few messages here and there since the bar has service. When everything went down, I let them know that the colony was booked. It wasn't really a lie, just one of omission. Never mentioned anything about the two of us getting swept up with a slavery ring, only because I know my mom would worry herself to death. She's always been the type to dream up the worst possible situation first before rational thought kicks in. She would have made my dad cash in some valuables so that the two of them could come looking for us, but...I couldn't do that. My parents shouldn't have to pay for our mistakes, and we'd all be in hell if they did that. No, I just let them know that I was still with my brother, we were fine, but traveling a lot, hence the sporadic extranet connections. We're still looking for a colony for them. Which I also do on the time limits I have using the public terminals. I don't linger too long there, though. Overpriced and unsafe, especially with everyone breathing down my neck.”

His visor pulled up a ping from Sidonis. He made a mental note to reply as soon as he could leave.

He'd been walking through Gozu District, trying to scope out for any trouble, and spotted a crowd in the middle of the street. When he made his way closer, there was a betting ring around two asari kids. Both of them had been promised some ration bars if they were the winner, judging by the way that they glared and circled each other. Asari weren't well-known for going into physical brawls, and the biotic manipulation of the kids was shaky at best. It was dangerous. An accident waiting to happen. Without a proper school or adult to teach them how to control themselves, they would not only kill each other, but anyone in the direct vicinity.

So he stepped in. Pushed his way through the crowd and shouted for everyone to stand down. He had his helmet with him and was lucky enough to slap it on before anyone could see his face. Some of the bystanders scattered – others tried to give him a hard time. He placed a few shots near their feet and had them dancing away when they argued, but the asari kids were furious.

Before he could offer them compensation, or get them something to eat, one of them had charged at him. Knocked him flat on his ass. While he stared at the asteroid-thick sky, head swimming, the two of them cursed at him and ran off. He was in shock for a couple of seconds on his back. Half of him was impressed at the force that the little one had, and the other half was embarrassed that he'd been shot down and that he was bleeding.

Mistake number two? The wound that he received needed direct medigel application, as his suit had been malfunctioning as of late with its dispenser, and it was in a place he couldn't exactly reach.

Swallowing his pride, he'd messaged E to see if she was busy.

Her apartment wasn't bad. It was deep inside Blue Suns territory, which made sense, considering her brother's profession. Being there still made him wary. He tried not to look too suspicious, letting himself in once she opened the door for him. He did his best not to bleed over the floor. She was already stepping in to assist, fumbling with the seals on his armor. He unlatched the shoulders and exposed his bare back to her, wondering if she'd ever seen a turian outside of all his clothes. Or any other species, for that matter.

“Doesn't look like it's that bad. Do turians regenerate like krogan?”

He laughed then, amused at the concern in her voice. “I wish.”

“You might've had a different nickname then.” She severed the bandage from the roll and tucked it in. “Too tight?”

“Perfect.” He rolled his shoulders and sat up straight for good measure. She had done this before, and he wasn't about to pry how often.

She helped him pull everything back on, snapping things on her side so that it made the process twice as fast. “Do I want to know what happened?”

“Caught in-between three blood raged krogan.”

E broke out into an uncharacteristic grin. “Really?”

“...they might have been bodyguards to the prepubescent asari who launched her biotics at me.”

She shook her head and laughed under her breath. His mandibles flicked out at the sound; it was slight, subtle. More turian than human.

“I think I'd stick to the krogan story. But maybe just cut it down to one and see who that convinces.”

“Sound advice, E.”

She stepped back when he pulled himself off the chair in her living room. “I...feel really stupid for asking you this, but I don't know what to call you. In public, I mean.”

He thought a moment, surprised. Most of his crew called him Archangel when they were on the field. Sidonis was the only person who knew his first name. When someone needed him at the base, they still referred to him with his codename, seeing as how no one bothered to ask for something different. Butler was the only one who got away with it, often referring him as “Arch”, which wasn't that telling in a place like this. Anyone could have assumed it was short for “arc welder”, and some sort of nickname. He didn't know E's full identity, but an initial was fine.

After all these months of working with her and having her throw him information, it wasn't until now – when he was comfortable enough to have her patch him up in her house – that she requested some sort of label that she could refer to.

The tingling sensation in his back, where the gash was sealed up, sobered him. He scanned her face and could have offered her a hundred different aliases, but found that it was disrespectful, in a way. Especially when he was sure that what she gave him was genuine. Not just a random letter she thought up to placate him. It was a placeholder for a possible future where they could trust each other.

“G. G is fine.”

* * *

 

He and Sidonis kicked back together, both of them watching the crew's mannerisms. It was strange how so many different races could come as one team and eradicate crime. Different backgrounds, motivations, but with a similar goal that bridged across species. And even though he wasn't aware of every dirty little secret that each member had, it was still apparent that they were able to move forward and put it behind them. Learn and grow.

“Crazy that we've gotten this far,” Sidonis sighed, obviously on the same train of thought. “I never thought that our conversation in _Afterlife_ could've warranted this much success.”

“A lot of publicity, too.” Garrus shifted in his seat, painfully aware of the bandage wrapped along his back. “The other day I heard some vorcha discussing us. One of them hissed out my name and the others scattered; they thought that I was going to drop down from the rooftop and blow their heads off if they went through with some minor threats toward the neighborhood's residents. Kind of nice to know that there's so much power in a shadow.”

“What was that human term that Butler used? 'Heavensent'? Sounds about right. Bringing some hope into these people's lives...it feels good. I feel good about it. Hell of a lot better than getting my face pounded on by an angry krogan.”

Erash had done his part so far. The old man was a hell of a reverse-engineer when it came to buildings and regulations. He managed to hack into some systems and pull blueprints for the biggest neighborhoods associated with various gangs, including several hotspots they hadn't been able to storm. He was already at work trying to decipher them and come up with a plan of attack, with Garrus' input, of course. Not only that, but the guy had done a stellar job in compiling his knowledge with Krul so they could improve their own base's defenses. The batarian was sour about their forced partnership, but Erash was the type of person you couldn't exactly say no to. Even with condescending, antisocial tech experts.

Mierin entered the room with a solemn look on his face. “Dead,” he choked out. “Seven of them.”

“You're kidding.”

The salarian shook his head and, in frustration, paced from one side of the coffee table to the other. His steps were unnaturally hard against the floor, as if he was punishing it for the circumstances outside.

“Whoever it is, he's skilled at tech. Incredibly intelligent _and_ dangerous. Nineteen dead in the past three weeks! All different races, ages, gender. What's his MO? Why is he targeting people so randomly? And _how_ is he killing them so cleanly? All of them were so sick, and had been suffering for days in agony.”

Monteague trailed in after him, deactivating his tactical cloak. “We scoped out the place of the last victim. It was...hard to look at. The bodies...I cannot even fathom the amount of cruelty in a person that would cause them to lash out on innocents.”

“And he's picked up the pace since we started to look into it. The bodies we've found are just the ones he's left out to tease us with. He's toying with us, and he knows we're scrambling to follow his train of thought. But no one here is sick enough to pick up on that.”

Garrus held his tongue, mulling over the situation. Last week, E had mentioned something about hearing a ruckus down in Doru District. The situation there, the bodies that had been found, caused any and all Blue Suns to vacate. None of them wanted to deal with a serial killer, especially with how twisted and mutilated the bodies became. A Sun who stumbled on the scene died not too long after. Garrus had asked if the guy was wearing his helmet, but she said she wasn't sure.

“One of the vorcha tried to take a bite out of the body and puked up blood until he died,” Mierin continued, on a tirade. “Even with all of us scoping out he place, he just bent down and sank his teeth into the corpse. Like an animal! We watched him writhe and convulse until Monteague finally put him out of his misery.”

The aforementioned human closed his eyes and tilted his head downward.

“We need to sterilize these crime scenes, then,” Garrus stood up. “If anyone around can get contaminated, it's something in their bloodstream. Think about it. The vorcha bit into him and suddenly he drops? Leaving the exposed corpses out there is only going to invite trouble, especially if someone just dumps them in the sewer. Drinking water could be unusable for weeks and there would be a huge outbreak.”

Erash broke the short silence by drumming his claws against the linoleum of the table. “Let me make a call.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly, the thought of Garrus getting his ass handed to him by a couple of kids is probably the greatest thing. Especially considering he was at the top of his game in CQC during his military tour.


	11. Observations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Garrus doesn't miss very many details. Hard to when you've got the perfect vantage point.

It was late. Garrus couldn't sleep.

Typical. They had a big day planned for tomorrow. Erash called up a friend, someone who was a former mercenary, but incredibly interested in the current dilemma of the bodies piling up across Omega. This was a situation that took priority because of the sheer numbers of dead that surfaced through hearsay and gruesome vid footage. They had to track down this murderer and get rid of him. Whoever he was, he was getting cocky. Cocky enough to continue with his killing spree. And it killed Garrus to know that despite all of the stops they had pulled over the last seven days, more and more body counts littered the reports thrown on his desk by his weary team.

He sat in the kitchen and rifled through the case file that Sidonis compiled for him. As a C-Sec officer, Garrus needed to see the whole picture. Tidbits of information could be lost when it was transferred between the team, and he wanted the crimes painted out in vivid detail. So he set up an area in the conference room that was plastered with photos and reports, staying up late hours trying to fit together pieces of the puzzle. Pieces that were turned around and needed to be eased in with a more patient, less sleep-deprived mind.

Shaking his head, he curled his hands around the cup. It wasn't kava, but at least he could afford something aside from dirty water. The tea was something that Weaver made for the dextro members of the crew, and even though it didn't taste too great, it did do a good job in keeping him awake. It cleared his senses and brought him a sort of clarity, a second wind he needed in order to get his shit together.

The fridge opened behind him and he could tell by the indignant huff that it was Ripper.

“Couldn't sleep either?”

”What, an' miss some quality time with the infamous Archangel?” He snorted and made his way to the counter, where he started making some sort of late night snack. “Best part of the job, these low-key chats. I get to learn all about the dude who started beating the shit outta Omega.”

Garrus had laughed, though it sounded strained. Forced. He wasn't sure what it was, but the air in the room felt a little...tense. As light as Ripper's words were, he seemed to be dancing around a question. Not that he was even aware that he was doing it; the other turian was incredibly dense when it came to controlling his subharmonics.

Ripper paused in mid-assembly of his food and began to tap his foot against the tiles. In an off sort of beat, no real rhythm present. He twisted and stretched, yawned, cracked his neck. They were all distractions for…something.

Finally, to Garrus' immense relief, he broke.

“So...” He turned and leaned against the counter, his body lax against the sharp edge of the corner. “Are you and uh...E...together?”

Out of everything he could have asked, it was that?

“What?” Garrus spluttered.

“You and E seem...close,” Ripper continued. “I wanted to ask if maybe, you were...involved. In a relationship. That kinda shit. I just...I'm curious, is all.”

Garrus had a million thoughts running through his mind, and some jokes he wanted to make, but the seriousness in Ripper's eyes made him shy away from it. “No,” he finally said. “It's not like that at all. I don't have a thing for humans like you. Hell, I don't even really understand the fascination with _asari_. You're the raging xenophile, remember?”

Ripper let out a deep exhale and a shaky laugh was entwined with it. “Really? You're not just sayin' that, right? I mean, when she came around the other day, I was almost positive...man, it doesn't even fucking matter. Great. Awesome!”

The relief that swept through the room was almost overwhelming. Garrus eyed him, observing the happiness that resonated from his form. Ah. “You have a thing for her?”

“Me? Fuck no. Fuck that. I don't – Weav's really into her. From a platonic standpoint. Butler's friendly enough with her, but he's married. And I was thinkin' to myself, whoa, maybe she's Archangel's girl. His right hand lady. Thought maybe you weren't too keen with the idea of Weav getting so close, seeing as how she reminds him of his dead ma. Uh, I been with a lot of humans before, but her? No. No way. Why? Is she...into me?”

He tried so hard not to laugh. “I don't know. She never mentioned anything about a boyfriend, though. Kind of hard to do when you're more concerned about your next meal.”

“Right. Totally makes sense.” Ripper fumbled with his food and, in a measurably better mood, stalked over and plopped himself in the seat across from Garrus. “So, she's never said anything about her type, then? What kind of guy she goes for?”

“Like I said, it's never come up. Most days we talk about her tips from the bar and her past life. How she ended up on Omega. Did you want me to ask?”

He nearly choked mid-bite. “No! Nah man, don't do that! Don't get it twisted! I'm not into that. Just, just wondering.”

“Right. Okay. You know, it wouldn't hurt to spend some more time with her. She's not the type of girl to tear your head off. A little shy I guess, but she's opened up to me well enough. I would invite her down more often, but with this serial killer, I thought it'd be best for us to keep our distance. Just in case we get a break. I don't like the idea of her traveling by herself down to our district.”

Ripper shot him a grin. “Good call, man.”

When the other turian finally left, Garrus stared at his now-freezing tea. What was that about? He'd known that interspecies relationships weren't exactly rare these days, but he was almost positive that Ripper had been spouting hot air about being involved with humans. How would that even work?

Baffled at the mere thought of it, he shook his head and went back to simpler tasks. Compared to Ripper's strange, newfound interest in E, trying to track down a serial killer suddenly didn't seem like such a daunting task.

* * *

 

“Sensat. Nice to meetcha!”

His handshake was firm, if a little overzealous. He nearly shook Garrus right out of his armor, and couldn't help but grin around at the base.

“Oooeee! One nice place you get here, Archangel. Y'know, I never much liked big bases. Always seemed like an uh, liability! But hey, with a small army like this, I guess we gotta find room enough for all of us. Before I get settled in, I'd like ta to gather everyone 'round for a physical. Believe it or not, before I was a merc, I got my doctorate in xenobiology!”

Butler's expression mirrored Sensat's. So that was what people meant when they said smiling in humans was contagious. “If you're a doctor, why the hell would you become a merc?”

“To pay off the student loans. Ha! Alliance helps you out right until the point where you need it the most. Bad loans, baby, too many damn restrictions! Had to make ends meet somehow.” He clapped his hands together. “Line 'em up, boys, let's get down to it! Faster the better!”

Vortash scowled at Erash, obviously offended in having to subject himself to the prodding and examination of the human doctor. “You owe me for this, my friend,” he seethed.

“Owe you what? The pleasure of having your sprained arm taken care of? I have seen the way you cradle it, Vortash. Not all wounds are cured with bouts of rest coupled with more excessive violence.”

“Secret to krogan longevity,” Vortash argued.

Sensat's enthusiasm never seemed to curb. Even when he took a look at the intel that they gathered, and his eyes were hard when the disturbing images were pulled up, he seemed excited in his firing of questions. He walked in circles around the table, scratched his head, then circled some more. All the while he was humming a small tune and making ridiculous hand gestures that he claimed “helped him concentrate”.

“Quarian!” he suddenly shouted, making the entire squad, excluding Vortash, nearly jump out of their seats.

“What...the...fuck?” Ripper whispered to his brother.

“We're dealing with a quarian!” Sensat beamed.

Garrus, still in the mindset of his early C-Sec days, needed more than that. “Evidence?” he prodded.

“Just the facts! Think about it! Tech expertise, coupled with an intricate viral knowledge? His targets are otherwise strong, healthy, prime examples of their respective species! Children who are born with promised longevity outside of an enviro suit, adults in the prime of their gosh darn life! Why hasn't he killed any volus, huh?

“He no doubt traveled on pilgrimage and was fascinated with alien culture, but it instilled a deep, hostile jealousy. Forced to live on the streets and make his way through his adolescence 'til he found information that the flotilla found useful. His disgust with the rest of the galaxy's lifeforms took over. He toiled away at collecting information, data analysis. Quarians need extensive knowledge in biochemistry in order to survive, what with allergies, suit punctures, a wide variety of methods in how to die 'cuz of exposure! But other races didn't need suits, heck no! But! They also didn't have them for protection, so he finally felt that he could gain revenge against their ease of life, what they took for granted!

“Using his pooled knowledge, he woulda mastered the art of administering a virus to various species, tearin' their immune systems through...? What? Oral contact! To throw it back in their face! That their biggest strength was also their fatal flaw, that they trusted the atmosphere and environment enough to become LAZY at the possibility of sickness! He envied their freedom but twisted it to their downfall, and he was safely contained in his own private bubble, so that power balance, in his favor, was restored.”

His pacing stopped and he tapped at his forehead.

“And...why is he male?” Garrus dared to venture further.

“Well because he's in this photo.”

Sensat pulled up one of the pictures that Monteague and Mierin provided from one of the crime scenes.

“Son of a bitch!” Butler managed. “He was standing less than ten feet away from you guys. He came to admire his work. Serial killers take trophies from their victims...”

“Then what was his?”

“The first picture in that set.” Monteague's eyes snapped open. “The quarian was the one who sold it to us. He said he had the perfect angle before we got there and thought we might be interested because we looked like fellow gore fanatics.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ripper is The Ultimate Dork and no one can tell me differently.


	12. Sick

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes, the kills don't have to be clean. Garrus thinks he likes watching some of them squirm.

Erash was terrifying.

If Garrus thought that Monteague was a hell of a soldier, what with his tactical cloak, then Erash was the ninth fucking circle. It wasn't that he was just trained in rifles, either; he had no preference for his guns. But it was the fluid way he moved, even with his age, that still sent involuntary shudders down Garrus' back. The man would glide across shadows and buildings, scoping out places, blending into the crowd. He could put on the face of an elderly, helpless man, then snap the neck of any who tried to take advantage of him for it. In essence, he must have been a seasoned assassin or mercenary in his time, weaving through the city's slums undetected.

“If we tip the quarian off, he could release his virus into a crowd. As far as Sensat knows, it's only transferable through fluids. Saliva, blood. He said that this guy's best bet is to attack hospital patients. Can you believe that? He comes into the rooms and slips the vector into their IVs, medigel, orange juice! And even if the doctors were to catch it, you know what would happen? Nothing. Because it's a virus. It can't be cured, only adapted to and fought with immune systems. But being a quarian and all, he knows just where to hit.” Butler sighed. “Fuck.”

“If hospitals are a major hotspot, then we need some patrols down there. I need the blueprints that Erash dug up on the station's most current layout. Then I can assign who's going where.”

Sidonis fired up his omnitool and began to type in the access code that Erash shared with them.

Before the results were even compiled, Ripper spoke up. “I got dibs on Gozu.”

“Any particular reason?”

“Weav wants to make sure that E's okay,” he replied quickly. Garrus caught the flit of confusion on his brother's face when they exchanged looks, but neither of them said anything. “She lives around that clinic the crazy salarian set up. Better to keep her steered clear of it.”

He wasn't in the mood to argue, and it was rare that Ripper volunteered for guard duty. “Fine. I'll ping her now and let her know not to be taking any trips to the hospital.”

“Awesome.”

Everyone packed their things and was ready to move out. The comm systems had been checked, double-checked, and triple-checked by Krul. He had plans to stay at the base so he could monitor everyone's progress, seeing as how he was a behind-the-scenes type of guy anyway. Garrus gave everyone their coordinates and they all seemed eager. Strange how the tides could turn after one more recruit. If Sensat hadn't shown up, they would have been stumped as to the identity of the killer. And though Garrus wasn't a hundred percent convinced that this quarian was the culprit, one lead was better than nothing. Ignoring the possibility that Sensat was right would only hurt hundreds of other people, if not kill them. Sending out a few guys might have seemed a bit extreme, but he felt he had little choice.

“Hold position.” He glanced down at his omnitool and his mandibles pulled in tight to his face. “Ripper, Weaver. E is at the clinic. Her brother was injured during a recent firefight.”

“Then tell her to get the hell out of there!” Ripper snapped, mood suddenly sour.

Garrus typed a quick message, and received an almost instantaneous reply. “She knows something's up, and she isn't going to leave him there alone.”

“That dumbass bitch!”

Weaver punched his brother in the shoulder and nearly knocked the turian back. Ripper stared at him with indignation written all over his expression, a growl in his throat and his healed nasal plates flaring.

“Don't fucking touch me again, Weav. I will knock you out.”

The two were interlocked in a heated glaring contest before Garrus interrupted them both, standing between their tense bodies.

“Stand down, the both of you. If you don't want to be separated, then move on. I can relocate you if working with him is going to be a problem.”

Ripper shoved his hands away from Garrus' grip, grabbing the cowl of his armor and rolling his neck. “I'm cool.”

“Then get out of here before I change my mind.”

Garrus waited for the signal. Anything. He had been here for two hours at least, the exits and entrances accounted for. Krul insisted over the comms that they were fully functional. It was Erash they were counting on. He had given them hints that he was fine, but didn't want to tip the target off, so his comms were off or in radio silence for the majority of his trek. Briefly, the image of Erash getting caught flashed in his mind, but he let it ebb away. Account for negative consequences, don't expect them.

“Archangel. Base located. Target inside. Replenishing supplies.”

“Krul, pinpoint his location.”

“Has gotten comfortable. Backup formally requested.”

“Granted. Orders are as follows.”

Everyone he chose abandoned their posts and was on foot. Krul pulled up the blueprints and read off the description over the comm for them all to hear.

The quarian was it, all right. He set up some kind of sick science lab inside the hideout, complete with pictures of every victim he'd ever taken. Garrus couldn't believe it. Never would he have believed that someone from Tali's flotilla could have committed such atrocities. It shouldn't have made him so angry, but it did. He couldn't have expected better from a race that destroyed their own future by declaring war against their own creations. The initial racism he had crept up, despite the informative chats he used to have with her on the SR-1, and he needed to take his rage out on the man in front of him.

Tricky. He thought he was slick. He had several escape routes available, places to slip out undetected. In fact, this building was so well hidden that he was surprised anyone managed to find their way inside. It was some sort of abandoned medical facility, a place for the quarian to feel at home due to its once sterile environment. Now he toiled away in front of beakers and microscopes, eager to wreak havoc on the world around him because of his “unfair” situation.

Seeing as though he had stayed here long enough to create a multitude of viruses tailored to multiple species, it was apparent that he knew the ins and out of this area. They would have had to tread carefully, if it wasn't for the convenience of the blueprints. Despite the damage, this place had been unused for quite some time up until this point. Which meant no major renovations or changes had been made.

Vortash broke through the wall nearest to the quarian and charged, his shotgun loaded and ready to blast a hole. With a filtered scream of surprise, the serial killer jumped out of the way just in time for the krogan to narrowly avoid crashing into his chemistry set. No telling what sort of chemicals it held, what deadly concoctions, and images of the genophage was enough for Vortash to lose his edge.

The quarian laughed in glee and dodged out of the way when the krogan went for a second charge. He bounced and danced, nimble, toying with the hulking soldier. All the while he said nothing, not a single word that came from his voice modulator, and the glittering of his smoky eyes behind the glass of his face plate nearly drove Vortash insane.

But a blind attack wasn't in the plan at all.

Sensat entered from the quarian's blind spot, the only other entrance into the building, and flicked his hand upwards for emphasis. “Upsie-daisie! You're pretty heavy, kiddo! Sure hope I don't get a nosebleed!”

The biotic pull field went up, and so did the quarian. His body went weightless and he floated in the air, helpless at the hands of the very two races he had been targeting as of late. He still said nothing, but his flailing arms and legs were a telling indication of how stressed he was. Sensat was seasoned enough to hold him there, a cheerful disposition on his face still, and turned toward Garrus.

“He's not goin' anywhere.”

“Good.” Garrus moved closer and scanned over the quarian with his omnitool. “Krul?”

“Oh...” The batarian's voice rang over the comm, laced thick with glee. “Hacking an envirosuit. I've always wanted to do this. Yes, this model is one I've studied for this mission. This should be fun.”

Vortash plucked a test tube in-between his fingers, not bothering to look at the label. Any of them would do. He handed it to Garrus, disgusted at its existence by the way he recoiled. Garrus thanked him silently and approached the restrained quarian, looking into those milky orbs that spoke of no fear.

“Drop him to stasis.”

Without a flinch, Sensat lowered his body and the quarian was immobile. No amount of willpower could break him out of that hold. His hands pinned to his sides, his body exposed.

“I hope this is what you wanted. Because it's what you deserve.”

The seals to the envirosuit hissed. Musky Omega air crept in through the open orifices, the noxious gas swimming with chemicals. Garrus knew it wouldn't be long before the suit would begin clamping down to contain the foreign bacteria and deliver antibiotics, but Krul overrode the functions. He introduced the tube into the vocal port, the liquid trickling past the filter. Even if his lips were sealed tight, which was doubtful in the way he had been cackling before being swept up, it would still seep into his skin. He would absorb it. Just a small part of it worming its way down his throat.

When Sensat let go of the stasis field, and the rest of the group pointed their guns at the quarian, he fell to his knees. His hands went to his neck, and a thick, garbled noise erupted from his suit. He coughed once, his voice thick with mucus, the muscles seizing.

Another.

His body wracked with it, shoulders shuddering, the sound torn from his vocal cords.

Again.

This one was drier than the last, but the pain that was behind it was enormous.

In a violent fit, the quarian collapsed, coughing and coughing, spitting up in his envirosuit, gasping and trying to breathe, only to have his heaving breaths interrupted by another bout. He scratched at his suit, tried to get out, tried to fix it, but couldn't. All the while he continued to splutter and was starved from air, lungs filling and deflating just to fuel more heaves from his itching throat.

The panicked body language made it all the more real and raw when one more was wrenched out him. The grand finale. Powerful enough that his body gave out, twitching, oxygen deprived, a long process of sickness and helplessness that washed over him until he was nothing at all.

Just another corpse along the sea of the ones he collected and plastered on his walls.

* * *

 

“Got the bastard, then?”

Garrus nodded, trying to burn the grim images of the shrine from his mind. “Yeah. Worth it. Sorry you couldn't be there.”

Sidonis finished passing out the cards between them. “You know what? So long as he's dead, and you saw it happen, I'm good.”

Butler huffed, surveying the hand he was dealt. “I had no idea that Sensat was a biotic. Good call, Arch. Any other tricks up your sleeve?”

“If I have any, I'll save them for when we really need them.” He laughed. “You know, Butler, for a human, you have a terrible poker face.”

“Ah, damn it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like trying to stay true to Archangel's dossier in the Shadow Broker lair was pretty difficult. Like how do you even make a serious chapter on someone dying from a cough???


	13. Puzzle Pieces

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What was this, a crash course in interspecies relationships?

“He's out and running around already? Shame. Maybe a few weeks...months...out of commission wouldn't be so bad.”

E rolled her eyes. “So I can foot all of the bills?”

“If you ever needed me to lend you something, I could. Don't be afraid to ask.”

“I'm okay.”

“You say that so much, it makes me think it's really the opposite.” His omnitool pinged and he glanced down. “Crap. Krul needs me for some opinion on his specs. Don't go anywhere, I still need to talk to you about your brother.”

At least Krul's task wasn't too time-consuming. He was interested in making some upgrades, but wanted to know if the budget would allow it. If Garrus wanted to be honest, he would have told him that they could afford the batarian's suggestions twice over, but held his tongue. He didn't want to make the others cocky. The credits they had needed to be reserved and spent wisely. Every credit meant the line between life and death for a resident on Omega. Or twenty. They could afford better equipment and defense systems, sure. Anything more than that, like better food provisions, was secondary and unnecessary. That was more about comfort. When it got to the point where morale was affected because of less expensive food, then he would reconsider. Until then...

He made his way through the halls and wondered when Butler was coming back. He and Sidonis were checking up on a small side heist by the Eclipse. Nothing major, just some sort of document forgery business that they had on the side. Passports and credentials to travel through Citadel space, fake identification that criminals used to evade security measures. While it was a low-risk operation, and it was just a bit of clean-up, he would feel better when every body was accounted for in the base.

Garrus turned the corner but paused when he heard the telltale signs of...attraction...in another turian's flanging.

Ripper, he immediately thought. He wasn't usually the type to eavesdrop, but this was too good. The other man's voice was dripping with innuendos and desire. It was a low, silky tone that was reserved for more serious courting rituals, and generally not flaunted so blatantly in public. Pretty hilarious, actually. The guy was a neverending source of amusement. He thought that maybe the guy had gotten back in touch with an old asari girlfriend on his comm or something, but couldn't have been more wrong.

“All I'm saying is, it's kind of a hassle for you to keep running back and forth. Rent's a lot cheaper when you own the building, and you'd just be paying for amenities. You're making a decent wage, enough to be on your own, at least.”

Garrus shifted and peered around the corner. His suspicions were confirmed. If the oozing voice wasn't enough, the turian's body language was all over the place. He angled himself near the girl and made himself stand taller, hips just a few feet away from her own. His shoulders were squared up but leaning toward her, a classic pick-up pose that was inherent from turian puberty and adolescence. If he was a more primal species, Garrus might have even picked up the stench of pheromones permeating the air.

“My brother is the reason why I'm here. I can't exactly watch over him when I don't live with him. Besides, I don't think he would appreciate the thought of his sister moving in with two guys.”

“So just move in with me.”

“A male, alien roommate. That raises even more questions. Why wouldn't I room with Weaver?”

“Cuz I am a _hell_ of a lot cooler than he is. We could have fun together, you an' me. I'm willing to...learn more about you. What you like.”

The thrumming in Ripper's voice was almost painful to listen to. He was laying it on thick, and E was completely oblivious. Either that or she was nice enough not to show her offense through strong words and thrown punches. Ripper didn't seem to care. She might have shoved him away and he still seemed like he would slink back over to her, stance predatory in every sense of the word.

Garrus knew he was being a dick, a “cockblock” as Butler would put it, but could sense this wasn't exactly what E would want if she was aware of the situation. She was too nice to say anything negative to him. He revealed himself to the two and a smile broke over E's face. It made sense. All she ever knew about Ripper was the less than polite way he regarded her when they first met. Their limited interactions since then weren't anything earth shattering, either. Mierin babbled on about how when Weaver and Ripper came back from killing Zel'Aenik, that they were still upset with each other over their pre-mission squabble.

“Ready?”

“Yeah.” She wasn't cruel enough to completely disregard the other turian. “I'll see you later.”

“Sure.” Ripper's tone went flat. Devoid of any emotion. Well, no, Garrus could detect a small amount of disappointment that bled through. “Think about what I said?”

“Okay.”

And just like that, he bounced back, cockiness absorbed in his parting words. “Good. Gimme the verdict when you can.”

Garrus and E moved their discussion the lounge upstairs. She said she loved the view. Humans were a bit sentimental like that. Still, the look she had while she leaned over the window and peered down at the bridge extending to the other side of the district...it was enough to make him mirror her expression. He'd been spending so much time with humans, his father would be disappointed in him picking up their strange mannerisms. Spirits, he hoped he never ended up like Ripper, oblivious to the way he looked and acted.

“It was just a skirmish with some Blood Pack members. Gang wars, stuff you'd like.” She rested her elbows on the ledge, back still to him. “He said the vorcha were regenerating like crazy. Luckily they got some back up. I don't think it's such a good idea for them to try frontal assaults like that, but I didn't say anything; I'm not a commander or legionnaire. But charging krogan and vorcha with shotguns and no easy way to get them with a headshot? I don't see that going anywhere but the messy route.”

Garrus watched the wind flip her hair backwards. He didn't understand why there was such variety in the styles and lengths of humans. An obvious sign that she wasn't a merc or soldier was that she let it hang down in her off time. At the bar, customers could tug on it, grab it, yank. So she tied it back. But here, in the lounge, long wisps of it fluttered from her face and settled near her mid-back.

“Anyway, I found this.” She turned around and walked over to him, pushing an object into his palm. “At the bar, there was this drinking contest between one of the munition depot owners and some other guy. They were trying to one-up each other, and the owner lost. They seemed like friends, so he offered a voucher for some state of the art, high class shipments. Both of them were so drunk by the end of their conversation that they forgot all about it when the bodyguards kicked them out. I managed to snatch it off the table before anyone else could get their hands on it. I thought, maybe, you could go down there and take it off his hands. I'm sure he wouldn't remember giving it to you, but it's valid, and your big gun would convince him otherwise if he tried to talk you out of it.” She laughed a little. “I know that the rest of the team supplies their own weapons and such. I hope it helps. New equipment better suited for Omega. Plus, you'd be keeping it away from the other gangs around.”

He glanced down at it, surprised. Usually vouchers were sent electronically, but this one must have been special. Encoded and needing a scan of approval, something unique that couldn't be hacked or faked. He recognized the logo on it: Vargo Incorporated. Big, big deal. Their stuff made Mierin drool when they walked by – it was the latest technology that was technically off the market.

“Wow,” he managed. “That's – wow.”

“Mm, I also have information, too.”

She made herself comfortable on the couch opposite him, sitting with her legs splayed. Although her voice was soft, and her smiles subdued, her body language was always more masculine, according to human norms. He'd seen the same poise from Butler and Weaver, two grown men. She seemed more comfortable that way though, and was dressed in jeans, so it wasn't as if it was a lewd display or anything.

“There's this guy who's been making waves at the bar. He doesn't come often, but when he does, almost everyone clears out a section for him and his crew. I was one of the girls serving him drinks. He had this huge entourage of people, and the entire night they were talking about publicity for the gangs. According to him, Omega needs to take back the station from...well, you guys. He said Archangel was a joke, and that they needed to advertise more recruitment, more heists. He bragged about getting in touch with some of the higher-ups in every big gang and encouraging them to grow a pair and get back on the streets. I guess his speeches were inspirational enough, because recruitment is at an all time high, and he said that the Widow Sisters are trying to climb up the ranks too. They've been laying low, but supposedly they're going to try to get back into the game with a big surprise.”

She fired up her omnitool. “One of the girls was in love with him. She said he was gorgeous. I'm not really sure what that means in turians, but she snapped a picture with him. I got her to send it to me afterward, said I didn't believe it. She was fine with showing me up.”

Garrus opened up the file and studied it. A gang enforcer, a serious one by the looks of it. These types attracted flunkies in droves, gathering mindless followers while they preached about anarchy and freedom. Going as far to rally up all of the gangs to make up for their cautious behavior as of late, though, was inexcusable.

“Nice work, E. You've done a lot for us so far. We're glad to have you.”

“It's the least I can do.”

The sound of heavy footfalls interrupted them. Sidonis and Butler trudged in, both of them covered in blood. E watched them in surprise when they stalked over to the bar to grab something to drink. Neither of them seemed keen on taking a shower first, either.

“That was fun,” Butler droned, his tone hinting at the exact opposite.

“Eclipse sure likes to use biotics. I wish we had Sensat with us. He could've thrown a pull field that had them all dangling so we could shoot them down.” Sidonis popped open his can and guzzled at least half of it. He looked terrible.

Butler sighed. “Too bad he's still recuperating from his stunt with the quarian. Bastard should've told us that he was straining his amp, we could've found other ways to hold him down. Ah, well. Hey E, good to see you. So, what do you think? Does purple go with orange? Asari blood's usually pretty on its own, but I don't know if I can rock the new camo.” He gestured to the various stains that littered his custom set.

“You know it's not the armor, but the man who wears it,” E teased, voice lighthearted. “You'd look good in just about anything.”

“Tell my wife that!” Butler laughed. “With the lectures she gives me about looking professional? Maybe I should bring you home to meet her some time. I think you two would hit it off. Something to do besides messing around with ol' Arch, here. Can't imagine you two have any fun, he's way too serious.”

She caught eyes with Garrus and smiled. “We get along just fine.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh Ripper, my sweet summer child.


	14. Overload

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Every day was a surprise. Some more pleasant than others.

_Human, male. Age approximation: 18-20. Healthy, strong. Attitude questionable, but captured with female, so easy to bend when her safety is in question. Best specimen of his kind on board. Might make good combatant in bloodsport. 10-15k. **UPDATE** : Flagged as a prime candidate for arena work. One of the big leaders on some planet near the fringes of the Terminus said he needs new contestants. Saw the picture and formally made interest known. Hope the kid is interested in outsmarting gurmers and cutting down unth'la._

_Human, female. Age approximation: 20-25. Submissive thus far. Obvious attachment to male brought aboard. Easy to break. Personal interest, but not sure if the cost is worth it. Already have several offers for her as is. Shame to have her go to waste, so boss is balking. Highest bidder always wins. Starting off auction at 25k at least. **UPDATE** : Boss wants to see her in person. Might choose her as his entry into _Blueshift. _Out of my league now, for sure. Undamaged humans as young and willing as her are hard to find, what with the Alliance breathing down our necks._

He shifted in his cot. Exhaled. Shifted.

Garrus finally had a chance to look over the datapad that E gave him. Out of curiosity, he tried to find the entries that the batarians put down about her and her brother.

He wished he hadn't.

Reading over the words, it wasn't as graphic as it could have been. The batarian who persuaded them to board the ship was one of the milder types that collected people to sell into slavery. He could have ignored his orders and forced her into – anything, really. All it would have taken was a hit of red sand, a few coaxing words, and he could have damaged her beyond repair. A hollow shell traded between men for profit, posted up on a pedestal for others to throw their credits at. Humiliated. Degraded into something less than a sentient lifeform.

It stirred something in his gut. Deep hatred. Anger. He was furious at the notion that so many others had slipped in and out of Council controlled space with thousands of other people. All under the brass' noses and they couldn't see it! If E's brother hadn't stolen the gun, if she hadn't escaped...

He shifted again. Grunted in annoyance.

First things first: he needed to get rid of the gang enforcer. No use in making the other leaders cocky, not when they'd whittled down their confidence over the past year or so.

Time was hard to track in a place like Omega, where criminals had no desire to take a break when they could be making credits. He had trouble finding sleep as it was, and days trickled on, new information coming through his omnitool, informants and crew. He couldn't afford to waste anything, and though sleep was important, so was saving lives.

He had to get up early, only because staring at the ceiling and listening to music through his visor wasn't lulling him. At all. It was better to get it over with, to start the day.

In a couple of hours, he would take Sidonis with him so that the two could use the voucher for the weapons and ammunition. He would have done it earlier in the week, but they caught a break on a Blood Pack meeting that required immediate attention, so he was distracted.

Regardless, he was looking forward to it. While he had no intention of replacing his gun, he needed some new parts for maintenance. It would be nice to get some to go with the original shipment. Plus, he was eager to see the expression on the owner's face when he demanded the goods to be handed over. Normally the group would rather destroy the merchandise to prevent it to getting to gangs, as stealing it wasn't their thing, but this was better. Throw their success right in his face and reap the benefits without the use of threats or shakedowns. Because they were better than the mercs by a long shot.

He found he had an unread message when rifling through his inbox.

_G, it's E. Quick question: do turians kiss?_

Seeing as how she wasn't around, he let out a snort of laughter. _What kind of question is that? Why?_

_Never mind._

Garrus shook his head. _Now that's not fair. You can't ask me something like that and back out._

_I'm just wondering, And if you do, if it means something else to your species._

Obvious lie, but he didn't want to tease her too much. _That's typically more of an asari and human custom. As you might guess, our biology makes it a little hard to get as passionate as you can. Still, I think the message is the same._

There was a considerable pause, and he wondered if she had gotten it.

Finally, she responded back. _All I needed to know. Thanks._

Weird. He didn't have time to linger on it, though, because Sidonis approached him and mentioned the munitions depot. They'd go a little early after all.

Totally fucking worth it. He couldn't contain the grin he held when the depot manager stammered. Examined the voucher and, of course, accused Garrus of stealing it from someone. Apparently he had no memory of the little drinking contest, which was understandable considering that he and his friend had to be carried out of the bar.

It was beautiful. Rifles, ammo packs, new armor – and one with a fully functional medigel dispenser! Butler said he knew where to get everything repainted for next to nothing, and that was what Garrus intended to do. Time to trade in his old banged up stuff for something more suited to his tastes and status. No use in having the station's protector preaching while he was covered in a layer of tinfoil.

In a much better mood than he was earlier, he and Sidonis transferred the rest of the crates by themselves. Halfway back to their place, Vortash met up with them and offered a helping hand. No one seemed perturbed that the two turians and krogan were in cahoots, but it was Omega, after all. Allies were usually short-lived and deals ended up bloody. People probably assumed that they were aiming to cheat each other out of the package.

When they got back to the base, Garrus tried to find the others to let them know about the new equipment. It was probably faster to send a ping, but he felt like he hadn't seem much of anyone during downtime. He ambled along the building and stepped into Butler's room, hearing his voice from beyond the wall. He and Monteague were sitting and talking, probably swapping stories or something.

“Hey Arch!” Butler brightened up. “You won't believe what Monteague saw.”

“Do I want to know?” he joked.

“It isn't that interesting...”

The way that Monteague trailed off suggested otherwise. “I'm game.”

Too impatient for the sniper to agree, Butler jumped in. “Monteague went over to _Supernova_ last night to say hi to E. He's missed her the past couple of times, so he wanted to catch up. They're both huge nerds, and there was an episode that aired last night he wanted to talk to her about or some shit. So, this guy tries to find her around the bar, but no one knows where she went. Until one of the other girls says she took a quick break. He heads out to the back, in the alley, and he--” He started to laugh, turning his head away. “He finds her, all right. Pinned up against the wall and _making out_ with Ripper!”

The words seemed to go right through him. He blinked. “You've got to be kidding.”

“Oh, I wish I was. Monteague didn't get a picture, but swore up and down that it was definitely them. Can you imagine it? How would that even-? I don't get it. Here we were betting that Ripper was full of shit, bragging on and on about his human conquests. I guess that all of this time around E, the way she treats his brother, it got to him. Finally had to be forward with her. She wasn't _not_ into it, either. Said they kissed for a good minute or so before he left because he got embarrassed.”

“I was intruding,” Monteague argued. “She's a friend. He's an ally. No need to interrupt their intimate moment.”

Butler snickered. “I would've. What with that whole display he put on when they first met? Then he wants to stick his tongue down her throat? Weaver must feel really awkward if a girl who he protected starts banging his adopted brother.”

“I wouldn't go that far. She could have rejected him.”

All three turned toward the doorway, where they heard a muffled swear coming from further down the hall. Ripper showed up in the doorway a few seconds later, perking a brow plate at them. “The fuck are you guys all doing in here? Circle jerkin'? I been looking for you. Sidonis said everyone else is ready for distribution of the goods from Vargo. Unless you'd rather stick with the shittastic stuff you've got.”

They all stared, trying to decipher his expression. He wasn't angry. If E had stomped on his feelings, he sure didn't look like it. Yet...there wasn't an airy cheer to him, either. The turian wasn't well known for hiding his emotions well, so what the hell did that mean?

“What? Are you all retarded? Get downstairs already. I want a new gun.”

“Sure,” Butler smirked, standing up from his seat on the edge of the bed. “Anything interesting happen last night? I tried to find you to see if you'd gotten anything about our mysterious gang enforcer, but you weren't around.”

“Yeah, I went out. Tired of being cooped up in this damn base all day. Got the name of your guy, too. Wasn't too hard when you've lived here for a while. Had to confirm it though, so I felt out some old contacts.”

At his choice of words, Butler stifled a laugh. “How'd that work out?”

“Fine, considering what I _just_ told you about a big break. C'mon, asswipe, enough with the twenty questions.”

The group was all accounted for once they made it to the conference room. The shipment voucher was a hell of a thing for morale. Vortash had never looked so pleased before, his eyes already gleaming at the possibility of disassembling the weapon to learn it inside and out. Mierin was more interested in the new polonium grenade with an extended diameter of entrapment. Erash already had ideas for mods, while Grul was happy to dig into the certification and backtrack the manufacturing process. Everyone had their own treasure and they were eager to use it on the field.

“Yeehaw! Your inside source has impressive connections!” Sensat gushed. “I can't wait to meet her! What kinda girl is she?”

“Ask Rippe--OW!” Butler glared at Monteague, who had swiftly jabbed a sensitive spot underneath his ribs.

The green-eyed turian glanced at the expectant stares. “What?”

“Nothing,” Garrus replied quickly. “E's been nothing but good to us. I'm sure you'll like her. I have a few things to talk with her about, so maybe she'll stop by this week.”

“You've got enough to deal with, like a gang enforcer you need to take down.” Ripper stuffed the submachine gun into his electromagnetic holster with a quick click. “Give her a fuckin' break.”

“Yeah,” Butler chimed, thinking back to the story that they discussed not moments before. “A break. Does she...take those often at the bar, I wonder? What sorts of things does she do to pass the time?”

Garrus avoided eye contact with Ripper and changed the subject.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Monteague, the True Bro.


	15. Silver Lining

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One down. A hell of a lot more to go.

 “Now we're just one shy of lucky thirteen. Imagine that.”

Butler lifted himself over the piece of cover they'd found and aimed a few rounds, squeezing the trigger. Right on target. The bodyguard dropped and screamed in agony, the dire tone warranting a smile out of the human. He reloaded his gun and waited for another break in fire. To pass the time between popping out and gunning down soldiers, he opted to make a bit of smalltalk.

“You know, we'd be making more progress if you focused.” The new meat, Melenis, fumbled with another heat sink. Ammo was plentiful, but only a fool would squander it. No one ever knew what was around the corner. So they made every shot count, taking their time, aiming. These guys weren't going anywhere.

“Hey, that's just my style. Got me this far, didn't it?”

For emphasis, he kept eye contact with the turian and grinned. His arm dangled on the other side of the metal container and he went for a rapid fire. Melenis' mandibles flared in agitation but Butler continued to grin at him, obviously relishing the ability to push his buttons. Much to his surprise, another guard gained a fatal wound in the process, the rounds tearing through his shields, armor, and effectively mangling bone until the limb went sailing into the air.

Melenis blinked. Once. Twice. “I'm not even going to bluff; that was amazing. Not something you'd get away with in C-Sec, I'll tell you that much.”

“No worries about civilians in here. Everyone's locked and loaded, ready to kill us, and they're all the bad guy.”

“It's too bad there aren't more humans there, too. If half of my squadron was as lively as you, we might've gotten something done.”

Garrus listened to their banter and got on the comm. “Mierin. How are the explosives coming along?”

On the other line, there was a mixture of swears, laughter, and a hell of a lot of gun shots in the background. “Don't worry, Archangel. I've got it covered. Kind of difficult to find something around on a whim, seeing as how I'm saving the good stuff back at base, but I know how to improvise.”

There was a crackle and hissing sound. From his left, Butler whipped his head toward Garrus and shot him a look of incredulity. “The bastard stole my pop!”

“Soda is particularly useful as catalyzing agent,” Mierin replied with glee. “I'll compensate you, promise.”

“You twisted little salarian bastard. Next time I see you, I'm gonna slip eggs into your food and make you think twice about putting your hands on my shit!”

“Eggs?” Melenis sputtered.

Butler took another clean headshot, the bodyguard's brains splattering against the grimy wall. “Didn't you take Xenobio 101? Salarians lay eggs. I hear they get squeamish around any kind, especially when it's eaten. If he takes a big ol' bite, and the yolk runs down his mouth, he'll feel like a cannibal.”

Selkeet Shirion was the name of the gang enforcer, some kind of turian who thought that he was hot enough to get the gangs riled up. Months of hard work in making them subdued, only to have him encourage them to go a little more extreme? Now they had more problems than they knew what to do with, and it was all because this guy thought himself a deity. Judging by the way people followed him, starstruck by his charisma and resources, he wasn't too far from the truth. A god was what people created, a figurehead, an icon – he fit that criteria pretty well.

“I hear this guy Selkeet is a hell of a looker. E mentioned she met him at the club. Wonder if he hit on her. Or if she was even into it. Maybe she had to hold back from jumping him too. Or, y'know, she's only into humans. If that's the case, my nephew is around her age, I bet they would hit it off real nice...”

Butler continued to ramble on the comm until everyone heard Ripper snarl in agitation. “Fuckin' shit, man. Shut the HELL up! I'm tryin' to concentrate and all I hear is you yappin' on about E! The fuck's it matter to you, anyway? Keep that shit to yourself and get off the goddamn public channel!”

But it was too funny for the man in orange armor. Butler ignored Ripper's outburst, keeping the line open but turning to the sharpshooter next to him. “Say, Melenis, you're not bad looking for a turian. What do you think about humans? Our girl E sure could use a guy, I think, and you seem pretty mild tempered. That's what she needs: someone mature, subdued. Not an arrogant hothead.”

“That's IT! I'm headin' over there to punch your goddamn face in!”

Melenis had no idea what was going on, so he humored him. “Uh, I don't know. I've never thought about it before. Tell me about her.”

“What the FUCK did you just say, newbie? Are you fucking kidding me?” A pause. “Shut up, Weav!”

The team advanced. Selkeet thought he was clever in organizing several lines of defense in the warehouse, but it was all due to the fact that he was cornered otherwise. His ability to hire so many bodyguards and soldiers was commendable. It seemed that every move forward they made there were at least twenty more of them, waiting with guns drawn and eyes down scopes and sights to pick off the team.

While they were focused on the team below, Garrus found higher ground. All of mercs were so concerned with slowing their progress that they hadn't thought to check their blindspots with the cranes.

Garrus, honing his training from his hand-to-hand combat, nimbly crossed beams and narrow pathways. The warehouse itself was littered with cargo and boxes. It would be suicide to send an entire squad traversing through the layout that only Selkeet and his men were familiar with. But he had a vantage point, as did Monteague and Erash, and the three of them were quietly murmuring directions into the ears of their friends below.

Sensat was having fun picking up various items across the room and hurling them into crowds of soldiers. He was also receiving intel from the sniper trio, knowing where to direct his biotic field, lifting oblivious bodyguards from their hiding spots so that they were ready to fire upon. He was the main target of the mercs below, but an almost sixth sense allowed him to throw up a barrier before the bullets even made it close.

Krul, safe and away from the action, hacked the enemy's omnitools and armor hardware, rerouting power into their headsets and causing nasty bouts of electrocution. Tampering with their suit medigel dispensers. Tearing down shields. Generally making life easier for the rest of them.

Finally, _finally,_ Garrus found the slippery bastard. Settled high on a chair, the very back of the room, overlooking the scene through a thin sheet of very breakable glass. He had a wine glass in his hand, dressed to kill. Huh. Well, it made sense that the asari was so enamored; he really did have that air of superiority and attractiveness that could have only been purchased from a gene bank.

Despite all of that, the condescending look he had on his face said it all. This man enjoyed chaos. He wanted the gangs to rip up the order that Archangel and his men created, even if it meant the sheer and utter destruction of hundreds, if not thousands. He liked the way that innocent blood was spilled because it was all beneath him. The cost of a life, to a man who could buy friendship and trust, meant nothing more than the sludge underneath his custom-made shoes.

Garrus set his gear up. Aimed down the sights, lining up the crosshairs between Selkeet's eyes, a ridiculous, unnatural shade that was somehow irresistible to asari.

He spoke to the comm, not wanting to let his team flounder any longer.

“My old commander told me about a Terran animal once. Called it a snake. Said the only way to kill it...”

He pulled the trigger.

“Was to cut off the head.”

The warehouse was cleaned out. Garrus took the shot, the team retreated. In the midst of their confusion, the bodyguards and mercs hadn't noticed the explosive charge dropped by Monteague in the midst of the crowd. He detonated it as soon as they backpedaled out the door, sealing and barricading the stragglers behind them.

“Nice work, Melenis. I think you'll fit in just fine.”

Melenis made a move to say something, but was rudely shoved to the side by Ripper, who came barreling through.

“Get this straight, newbie,” he called back. “You even _think_ about laying a hand on E, I'll rip your dick off myself.”

“Why? Is she your mate?”

Ripper stopped in midstride and eased his body so that his upper half turned toward the other turian. “What the _fuck_ did you just say to me?”

Weaver intervened, grabbing his brother's arm and dragging him off. There was a lot of hushed words between them, but the conflict had been postponed. At least until they got back to the base.

Garrus saw no reason to make it an even bigger issue than it should've been, so he merely shot the other turian an apologetic look. They both knew going into this that not everyone would get along. He couldn't imagine how much of a clusterfuck it would've been if any able bodied females decided to join in; the drama with one inside source was enough as it was.

Celebration was a bit subtler than it had been in the past. Vortash and Erash had busied themselves in a few rounds of ryncol. How the human managed to stomach it, Garrus wasn't sure he wanted to know. They seemed to be in a lively mood, though. Weaver was distracted with some sort of show broadcasted on the TV that they all pitched in to get. Despite the tough demeanor they all had to put on in the field, each of them needed some kind of relaxation, and sometimes watching mind numbing programs was the way to do it. Monteague was reading from a datapad in the corner, a salad bowl in his cross-legged lap. Mierin and Butler were ribbing each other for the soda...err, "pop" issue, and Sidonis was trying to convince Sensat to pick Melenis up with his biotics as a joke. Krul tried to make himself look busy on his omnitool, but Garrus was positive he was trying to level up his character in Galaxy of Fantasy.

Ripper was the only one absent. The hothead was still wired up from the fight and didn't say a word to anyone, simply heading to his cot to stew. Garrus thought for a moment that he should check up on him, but another turian was probably the last thing he wanted to see.

 Somehow, it didn't feel right that E wasn't there. Though she didn't do any of the grunt work, she deserved credit for the lead. He fired up an invite and sent it out. Things could go either way at this point; if she showed up, Ripper might have stopped moping and busied himself with trying to impress her. On the other hand, Butler would've seen it as a prime opportunity to get under his plates and probably question E about her love life in front of everyone.

_Sorry, my brother's birthday is today. Maybe in a couple of days?_

**Search query: birthday. A yearly event marking the date of a mother's delivery, celebrated by humans and later adopted by other races. Customs include giving presents, singing holiday-appropriate tunes, and consuming traditional confectioneries decorated with candles. Birthday recipient often extinguishes candles to wish for a secret or hidden desire.**

_Well, let me know. Have fun._

“Archangel.” Krul's voice startled him from his exploratory readings on human culture. “I have information that may be of interest to you. It is...important.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Damn, Garrus is cold. Putting one between Selkeet's eyes, lmao. That'll be a closed casket funeral.
> 
> On a more serious note:
> 
> I know that OCs generally aren't too popular in any fandom, particularly those created to interact heavily with canon characters.
> 
> Still, I'm going to push on if only for anyone who CAN stomach it. For anyone who might feel wary of posting their own fiction with OCs. (Especially female ones that would be considered Mary-Sues in a universe where the protagonist literally comes back from the dead.) For people who don't care so they can get some insight/inspiration on Garrus' time on Omega.
> 
> So thanks to anyone still sticking around to read this, I really do appreciate you.


	16. Shift

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Garrus never thought of himself as protective, but things change.

Blueshift was a big fucking deal.

Huge. Massive.

Garrus scrolled through the data that Krul collected. The basic gist of it was the biggest slave auction in the Terminus, where traders broke out their best and most profitable candidates to sell off. The most significant figureheads attended, men who were in the game for decades. When a slave's price was high enough, they were admitted into a showing. Meaning that they were put on stage, in front of a willing audience, and showcased like farm animals. The most expensive objects – not people – that traders wanted to gain a profit from. It was where the top dogs found their new meat to sink their teeth into, where mistresses were raised and conditioned.

It was nothing like the gritty underbelly of the regular trading ring, where children were captured and used for labor. The women and men shown at Blueshift were meant to be groomed and trained to run alongside their masters, loyal to the end, almost _brainwashed_ into thinking that their captors were gods and saviors rather than scum. Indoctrinated, Shepard would have called it, alluding to the Reaper threat. It wasn't a cheap or timely process, hence why only a select few were eligible.

E's personality made her one of them.

Because it wasn't about looks, not all the time. It was about loyalty. The way that she looked after her brother, and the unwavering clinginess she had to him, caught the attention of the batarian who lured her on board. She was old enough that she knew how to rationalize and exist independently, different from children or teenagers who were captured at a young age. She remembered her life before, but she could still be manipulated to entrust vital information with. So in the case she was captured, she would have never given up any information, no matter what tortures or hurdles she was thrown through.

The investments made toward Blueshift were set in stone. And E was on the list, her picture plastered with an instant credit reward for her safe return.

Fuck. _Fuck._

She couldn't stay here and be safe. Not with that much attention paid to her.

He needed to squash this, and fast. E's safety was important – she was as much part of the crew as everyone else. Without her help, Garrus would have been scrambling for leads and still interrupting grunt meetings for low-key jobs. She had delivered so far. He had to return the favor.

He called a meeting with the oldest generations, those who had seen and done the most. Sensat, Vortash, and Erash. The trio had an air of secrecy around them concerning their experience and credentials, and he needed their expertise. A name and location of the boss that was offering credits in exchange for her delivery. He held them up in the conference room, at an hour when we knew the others would be on their own, and laid down the groundwork.

“That just ain't right. Our E? I dun' think so, fellas. Not on my watch!” Sensat's energy was a bit jarring when it was aimed toward something negative. His aura had shifted one-eighty degrees, no longer all smiles. It was a bit frightening to watch his mouth curl downwards into a subdued snarl.

Vortash looked over the reports for a third time. “Though I have never been fond of the human, her participation has been vital. We need her.”

“This is about justice. Some slaver thinks he can creep up on an innocent girl under our nose.”

“He doesn't know she's on Omega. No one does except for her brother.” Garrus exhaled in frustration. “But their search has gotten more desperate, as Blueshift's date has been coming up. We know the stakes. If E is captured, there's a good chance we'll never get her back. I've heard about the women and men that they bid on. A hundred years of psychotherapy wouldn't undo the damage.”

Erash, who had been quiet for a long time, glanced in Garrus' direction. “Are we the only ones involved?”

“We need to keep this quiet. I picked you three for your experience. Everyone else would let their emotions get in the way of their work.” Ripper in particular would be the worst choice for the job. He would go in guns blazing and let E's location slip in the midst of an adrenaline rush. “Omega's information is limited, but there are a lot more eyes and ears you can tap into. Old friends, old co-workers, old acquaintances, it doesn't matter to me.”

“This is our primary objective, I take it?”

Garrus nodded, slow and deliberate. “Yes. I'll still take leads from E. We go on business as usual. The others can't know something is up, or they'll jeopardize the mission. I cannot stress enough how delicate this situation is; any whiff of her whereabouts here, any inkling that we're seeking out a specific man at the top, and he'll make sure that our trails go cold. Your finesse is the key.”

Vortash stood up and the others made a move to follow. “I will not waste any more of your time. I do, however, suggest you include Monteague. While he has not done anything notable, it is merely because his skills have kept his accomplishments a quiet victory. He would be most honored, and he is mature enough to know not to let his emotions get in the way.”

“I'll consider it. Thanks, this means a lot to me. Dismissed.”

_E, how's the bar? I need to come down and talk to you when you're on break. It's urgent._

_At Afterlife. I'll see you when you get here._

_Afterlife_? What was she doing there? That wasn't in her district, and he was positive that her next day off wasn't in a couple of days. Garrus shook his head and went for his assault rifle, strapping it behind him just in case. He wanted to leave before he ran into anyone else.

The walk was the same as most nights, if a little brisk. Turians hated the cold. He knew he would feel more comfortable inside the club, as it was jammed with body heat, and the alcohol would do wonders in making him feel a bit warmer than he actually was. He wasn't planning on drinking much, maybe one glass to calm his nerves. He needed a little liquid courage to get the truth out to E. Normally he would have waited until she could drop by the base, but a couple of days was longer than he would've liked.

Background noise consisted of petty squabbles, hissing, punching and cries of pain. There was some rude, obnoxious laughter in the alleyways, the stench of smoke seeping through his plates. A younger human, male, stumbled past him and glared backwards, spouting some nonsense about war and casualties. More xenophobic bullshit. Two asari, probably in the maiden stage judging by their state of dress, stood on the corner and tried to look inviting. Not interested in the least bit, that was the last thing he had on his mind, especially not from another species. The walls bled with grime and piss.

Same old Omega.

He wondered what the VIP section was like. Judging by the long line of various men and women looking to gain access, it was probably just the same as the lower levels, if overpriced. He wasn't keen on the idea of being in Aria's sight, anyway. The so-called Pirate Queen was someone he did not want to take on personally. Her resources were too vast, and her ability to take over the station triumphed his entire's squad's combined experience.

_Afterlife_ was buzzing with activity, and the place was more crowded than _Supernova_ on any night of the week. Garrus had to weave his way around and tried to spot E over the crowd. Luckily he was taller than most of the other patrons, and managed to--

Wait. She was...

“G,” she smiled, waving at him. He could barely hear the rest of her greeting over the pounding of the bass from the speakers surrounding them.

Once she was close enough, he physically steered her right out the door he came in. She didn't make a move to protest, but the confusion was written all across her face. Her body tensed under his touch, mostly due to his pushiness, he guessed. She'd never seemed intimidated by him before.

They exited the club and he could finally breathe again. He sucked in the cleaner air in the bowels of the building, glancing around. There were a couple of vorcha who looked his way and muttered something to each other before slipping away. In the corner, another turian was puking up one too many shots he took in the bar. Garrus waited until he stumbled away, knocking into the walls, leaving the two of them alone to chat.

“What are you doing?” he snapped at her, unable to control himself. “Why are you working here?”

Her face fell, bit by bit, her shoulders sagging. “Aria's representatives came into the bar looking for new workers. They saw me and said that they didn't typically hire humans, but that they'd scoped out my skill and thought I could handle a better venue. The security is so much tighter, and I'd be getting a wider scope of information to trade to you, so I thought...”

“E, you need to quit. It isn't safe for you to be in a place like this. In fact, it might be the only reason why Aria would even consider hiring a human is because she sought you out specifically.”

“What? Why?”

He exhaled, trying to word this in a way that wouldn't send her into a panic. He'd wrestled with this since he found it all out from Krul. If he didn't let E knew, she would be completely oblivious to the threat and act as such. Getting herself into a situation like _this._ If he told her, she would at least put on more of a guard. He couldn't stand the thought of her maintaining the same false sense of security in this sleazy place as she did in the Blue Suns' territory. Still, regardless of her brother's ranks in the gang, they would have sold her off in a heartbeat if they saw how many creds she was worth.

“You remember the datapad you gave me? Krul looked into it while we were chasing the quarian. He found...he found out that the slaver who was going to sell you back then is still interested. As in, he's actively trying to get you back to put you up for a galaxy-wide auction. I won't go into too many details, but you can't risk getting recognized here. Aria T'Loak plays with the big boys and lets them do their business here in her club. If even one of them was to think you looked a little familiar...”

She let out a sound of frustration and ran her hands through her hair. “G, I can't just quit. It would never be that easy. She picked me for a reason. The only excuse I'd get for stepping out was a death confirmation.”

Garrus straightened up. “How much did she give you in advance?”

“How did you--”

“It's to lure you here. To give you incentive to stay. She paid for you to work at her club because she knows you'll be here long enough to pay it off. And if you tried, she would hold those numbers above your head. Even if you didn't spend any of it, and you offered to give it back, she would persuade you into paying her back in labor.”

The look she gave him, one of such defeat and embarrassment, made him want to physically turn away so he didn't have to see it. Her voice was small. “Rai said it was okay. He said that she didn't do that to her people.”

“She's been through hundreds of people, E. She takes good care of them, but only until the next deal comes along. If she isn't aware of your bounty, she will be. Fuck...it's too late to get out of your service to her. We can compromise. She doesn't know your name, she doesn't care. It's your skills that got you here, which is fine. You're not a dancer, so you won't be getting a lot of attention. People won't think twice. But your appearance here needs to change in case any of the higher-ups see you.”

“What do you want me to do?”

He brought up the file that was published for her capture. Studied it. “Your appearance is almost the same. We need to alter it just enough so they can't recognize you.”

Her hand went up and she stroked her hair, already reading into his insinuation. “G, I...I've been growing it for a long time. My father loved it.”

After work, he took her to the nearest shop. Only on Omega would you find a place like that open at four-thirty in the morning. She slipped onto the chair as the hairdresser wheeled her around, her face visible in the broken shards of mirror pasted to the wall. Her image was cracked and broken, much like her expression once the scissors neared her long locks. She continued to make eye contact with her reflection even when the locks fell down her cheeks and back.

Garrus wasn't sure what sort of attachment there was, but couldn't imagine anyone taking his fringe down with something that sharp, and inwardly winced.

It didn't help that for the first time since they'd met she cried, letting tears trickle from her eyes and slip down her cheeks. She didn't sob or hiccup like the civilians he'd dealt with on the Citadel, nor did she beg and plead. She simply watched herself transform and voiced her regret through an expression that her species was most familiar with.

When it was all said and done, she stood up from the chair and wiped the tears away with the back of her shaking hand.

“Come on. We need to find you some new clothes and...”

“Makeup. Yeah. I know.”

He referred back to the image on his omnitool. Glanced at her. Her long, wavy hair had been razored down by at least ten inches. She had thick bangs of it that swept across her forehead, unlike before when it was parted down the middle. The back of it was short and lengthened when it reached the space just above her shoulders. And the solid black was replaced by an electric purple, a color not uncommon in a place like this.

Her makeup of choice used to be little else than something that darkened her eyes. Now she had applied everything else. Smoothing out her skin tone, changing the shade of her lips. Even the color that she marked on her eyelids was foreign to him, a shift.

Different.

All different, and she looked miserable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There you go, kids. Your obligatory Important Haircut trope!
> 
> Rereading this makes me go, "okay....no???" I don't doubt the existence of high end slavery rings in the ME universe. Just a bit more sophisticated than I dreamed up because I really don't know much about human trafficking. It's definitely not my area of expertise.


	17. Bonds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Garrus reflects on the relationships around him.

Weaver had been injured. Almost fatally, Sensat told him in private.

The human took a bullet in the gut when his shields were down. He and Ripper had been on a scouting mission and stumbled upon the Blood Pack by sheer coincidence. Krogan weren't really known for asking questions, as their policy was usually 'kill first, laugh about it later'. There were at least three krogan grunts and a handful of vorcha that chased them through the alleys behind the buildings. Ripper had been attempting to hack a lock on a parked skycar for them to take the chase to the air, as they had experience in losing cops and pursuers that way. He claimed it was easier than trying to navigate on foot, plus they would've had an advantage as the krogan wouldn't have gotten a ride in time to get on their tail.

The lock was more complex than he'd thought. By the time he got it done, one of the krogan had charged. Weaver took the hit, as his brother's back was turned, and his shields went down when he was on the floor. The krogan managed to fire off a shot before Ripper realized what was going on. Their pursuer, having caught up to them on his own, was given a face full of incendiary rounds.

Ripper grabbed his brother, shoved him into the passenger seat, and hightailed it back to base. When he entered the door, he immediately called for Sensat, leaving a trail of fresh blood as they hauled him toward the makeshift infirmary.

Weaver was stable for now, but was still unconscious. Ripper wasn't taking it well, as was to be expected. He paced outside the door after Sensat kicked him out to change the IV drip.

His mood only turned worse when E showed up.

Garrus genuinely hadn't meant to stumble on the scene. He wanted to speak with Sensat regarding Weaver's condition, as a message via omnitool was too impersonal for a leader. He paused when he heard Ripper's strangled voice.

“E. What the hell happened to you?”

“What?”

“Don't 'what' me. Your...everything. Why?”

“I got a new job, at _Afterlife_. I had to.”

“You didn't 'have to' do jackshit!”

“Of course I did. It's...classier than where I used to work. If I didn't, I wouldn't keep the job. Is it really that bad?”

Good call, Garrus thought to himself. He never thought that E would have been a believable liar, but Ripper was unaware of the real reason. He didn't even flinch or hesitate when her reason was given, just stubborn in accepting the new appearance.

“It just isn't you. This ain't about what I did before, right? When we first met? I didn't...I was a huge fucking dick, I get it. But you didn't have to do this to yourself because of what I said and shit.”

She sighed, her tone weary. “I didn't do it because of you. And I'm not hung up on that, it was a long time ago. I really don't care.”

“You should. It was stupid of me. But that's besides the point. Fuck Aria! She thinks she can just play dress-up with you, like you're some kinda toy? You were fine the way you were. It don't even matter, you're not one of her dolled up sluts lookin' for a sugar daddy. I don't like the idea of you working there. Lots of creepy dickbags who could take advantage of you! It's further away from your place, more time to walk by yourself, and your brother can't check up on you! Shit, you trying to piss me off?!”

Garrus tilted his head, angling his hearing more toward their bodies. He was on the wall opposite of them, hidden from view, but just far enough where he could catch their conversation. Their relationship fascinated him in a strange way, and he was still wondering what happened after Monteague caught them. It didn't sound like they were together.

“Not everything I do is about you, Ripper. It isn't your problem.”

“That's where you're wrong. It _is_ my problem when you're...” He floundered, the subvocals skittering across both frustration and desperation. “God _damn_ you're hard to read! Stop looking at me like that!”

“I came here to see how Weaver was doing,” was her reply. “Do you want me to leave? I will if I'm bothering you.”

“No. No, it ain't like that at all. Fuck! You drive me _crazy_! I just...can I...”

A few seconds of silence seemed to drag on. Garrus took the plunge and peered just beyond the corner to get a look. It was...an unusual sight. Ripper bent down, arms encircling E, one hand splayed across her lower back and the other supporting the base of her head. His grip was tight. She was standing on her tiptoes to reach him at a proper angle, face pressed against his facial plates. He settled in the crook of her neck, mandibles tangled in a few stray hairs, her arms wrapped around his carapace.

It wasn't something that turians did. At all. Not with family, not with lovers. And it could mean so many different things to a human; to them, it was a normal occurrence in a time of crisis. Friends and relatives did that same thing with each other in a large list of contexts he couldn't even begin to name. Garrus found that he ended up with more questions than he started with, which he didn't even know was possible.

When they broke apart, Ripper's voice was thick. “I'll let him know you came by. He's gonna be so pissed he missed you.”

Just like that, the moment – whatever it was – was gone. E straightened up her clothes and Ripper's front was on full display again. She asked him specifics about the accident and he went through it, no fumbling or sarcastic comments. It was as if the hug never happened in the first place. Business as usual.

If Ripper ever found out that he'd seen them, he would kill him. Garrus waited about two more minutes before he stepped out, wondering how many more times he'd stumble on their interactions.

“G,” E breathed. “I'm glad to see you.”

He couldn't help but nod toward her with the turian equivalent of a smile. It was always how she lit up that made him feel a bit better about helping her out. When their exchange was finished, he turned toward the other turian. “How you holding up?”

Ripper crossed his arms. “Just peachy, considering my brother took a fucking shot in the gut to keep my sorry ass alive.”

E stepped backwards, away from the two, and linked her hands behind her back. She rolled on the balls of her feet. “Um, I have to get home, I'm working a little early tonight.”

“Maybe I'll come by for a drink.”

“You don't have to that. Weav would want you to be here when he wakes up. I'll see you later, though.”

“Whatever.” Ripper purposefully averted his eyes and stopped himself from watching her go. Both of them listened to her footfalls against the tile before it faded into nothingness. He gave Garrus the once over and made a scoffing noise under his breath. “You told her that he was hurt?”

“She would've wanted to know. We all know how close they are. It was only right. And before you get mad at me, Sidonis was the one who pinged her.”

“Yeah, well...thanks.”

Garrus laughed. “No need to get sentimental there. Now, I'm heading in. Sensat should be calm enough now that he won't give you a hard time. Come on.”

Weaver's emergency surgery was a success, although he would have to be out of commission for a few weeks. He was put under some anesthesia so he wasn't awake when Garrus went in to check on him, but at least he was in the clear. Ripper seemed relieved as well, and opted to spend the night in the chair next to his brother's bed. After a discussion with Sensat about what precautions they needed to take for Weaver's care, Garrus decided it was time to get something to eat.

He paused in the kitchen, thinking about what happened earlier. The closeness that Ripper shared with his brother, and the loyalty that E had to hers, made him think briefly of Solana. He went off the grid after he quit C-Sec, as he felt that it was better to make a clean cut and go on his own way. His family had no idea where he was, and he'd never bothered to check in. It didn't seem like it mattered much; he'd been spacebound since he joined the military at fifteen, and only ever went back to Palaven for urgent holidays or family crises. His duty always came first, and even when he rolled with Shepard, he hadn't bothered to let his father know.

The closeness that his squad had was almost like a family. Though not everyone was close, the loyalty and trust to each other was apparent. They wouldn't have been able to work hard or get anywhere without it. Despite the wide variety of people that joined up, they meshed well, and not just on the battlefield. Everyone had their quirks and subtle personality traits that intrigued him, made him happy to be a part of something. His days behind the office desk at C-Sec was nothing like this, all paperwork and no results. Here, they were making a difference, and together. As a unit, a whole.

It was a good feeling.

“Archangel. I've found a man invaluable to our priority assignment.” He gestured him to follow. “His knowledge will be useful. Follow me.”

Garrus wasn't opposed to a bit of violence in interrogations. Not when the scum you were after could hide behind regulations and rules that protected them from excessive force. But when the watchful eye of his superiors was turned elsewhere, Garrus knew that the only way to ensure that any information was given, was through threats. And not of prison or jail, not when the criminal you pursued had connections and was cocky enough to believe that they'd get away clean. Not when they knew it was the officer scrambling for any kind of lead to keep them held up just in time enough for the evidence to speak for itself.

On Omega, there was no law enforcement. No rules. No regulations. No redfuckingtape.

The guy was human. Mid-forties, ripped like a motherfucker. He had to have been a hunter, the same line of work as the batarian that coaxed E onto his ship. His eyes were defiant, his stance as if he still held the power. No fear.

“You really think you scare me?” he mused. “You're going to kill me anyway. I can see it in your face. High and mighty protectors, saviors of the galaxy, huh? Nice job in catching me, though. Didn't expect this little faggot to be one of you, thought he was a whore just trying to make ends meet.”

“Someone you wanted to hook with red sand and ship across space? Real original. I can see why they hired you.” Garrus moved toward him. “I need a name.”

“Sure you do. Do I know the answer? Maybe. But what's the incentive? If I'm going to die, and you're not going to let me go for information, what's the point?”

Monteague brought over a pack full of tools, voice level. “You and I, we get to play for a few days.”

The slaver's facial expression never wavered. “Pain? Really? Is that what you get off on? Fuck, just kill me now. It'll save you some time.”

“Or you could cooperate. The man we're trying to find isn't just your average goon. If we take him down, a lot of people's problems are solved. Tell me: what did anyone ever do for you? Judging by your situation, not a damn thing. No one will miss you. Lives don't mean much in your profession, we both know that. But the possibility of being involved in killing one of the most dangerous men in the galaxy? Because he hadn't looked out for you or seen your potential? A nice resume in whatever afterlife you believe in.”

He smirked. “The people I capture deserve it. They're _weak_. Who did he capture that was one of yours, I wonder? Wife? Brother? Neighbor? I hope they're important enough to make up for this bullshit. You can reason it any way you want; I'm still a goddamn human being. And you killing me doesn't mean a thing toward your little goal of playing hero. You're just wasting time and murdering in the name of an ideal. Plenty of unimpressive men have done the same thing. You want to act like a god, huh? Then go ahead. Lay your wrath on me. Judge me how you will.”

Garrus turned heel. “Have fun.”

Monteague's smile reassured him that it would be a productive session.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm getting these chapters out of the way because they're more ship-centric. What else is new??? Sorry I'm so predictable.
> 
> Also, Garrus: stop spying on people. Seriously.


	18. Choke

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well, this was what leaders did, Garrus mused. Cleaned up after everyone else. He wondered how Shepard got through it with a smile.

“Arch, you down to do some damage control?”

He glanced up at Butler after checking his inbox. “Depends. What's up?”

“Apparently...” He paused and laughed, Melenis flanking his side. The both of them had become fast friends. “...Ripper's at _Afterlife._ Trashed out of his goddamn mind.”

Melenis wasn't a bad guy. He was another cop at C-Sec who ended up quitting because of the restrictions and innocent people who'd been screwed by the system. But he was also a person. Ever since he had been recruited, Ripper had given him nothing but trouble, and for no reason. While the two of them weren't downright nasty to each other, their daily ribbings and digs weren't exactly the best encouragement to put them on the same team. Garrus had to give it to him, he was also incredibly patient; no physical fight had broken out between the two of them. Melenis played it safe, only fighting back when Ripper goaded him enough. So it wasn't hard to see why he would find the mental image hilarious.

“How much property damage are we talking?” Garrus asked wearily. The reports he received from Erash would have to wait after all. They'd been discussing a new installation of a power grid in the building so they could be more self-sufficient.

“Nothing so far. But if he gets any rowdier, Aria's goons are gonna lay their hands on him. And you know how he is about touching.”

Garrus thought back. It was true. All of the threats that Ripper made alluded to harming someone with his bare hands. He was sensitive about it, strict with his concept of personal space. Even his own brother had tried to calm him down and get him away from a situation, only to have his turian brother threaten him for laying his hands down.

“I'll get on it. In the meantime, you two should go down and see Erash about the grid configuration.”

“Aw!” Butler groaned. “Punishing the messenger, Arch? Not fair!”

“We can handle it.” Melenis' mandibles flicked out in a grin. “Besides, Erash has been trying to get out of paying you the four hundred creds you won from him the other night in Skyllian Five.”

“Ho-lee-shit! I forgot about that!”

With Weaver still out of commission, Ripper had refused to go on another scout mission without him. Normally Garrus would have told the other person to suck it up; sometimes at C-Sec, partners had to be exchanged or reassigned. Getting used to new personalities and working with other races was part of the job.

Still, this whole fiasco was just a front. Ripper was obviously still upset with the situation that he thought he put his brother in, so he wanted to lash out by punishing himself through a copious amount of alcohol. Why he went alone was for the same reason; he didn't want company, not even a designated, all because he thought he deserved it. Wallowing in self-pity was not a good look, and that sort of attitude could have a serious effect on his performance on the field. It was better to get rid of those thoughts before they festered into something more down the road.

At least _Afterlife_ 's music was decent. Garrus liked Expel 10 as a band, their pieces were full of hard beats and fast rhythms. Perfect for the blue women gliding down poles and grinding their hips in the air on top of tables.

He scanned the room and tried to find Ripper in the crowd, but it was a bit harder with how busy it was. There were other turians around, most of them with their hands wrapped around the railing to the massive projector with Aria's girls plastered all over the screen. They pointed and hooted at the women dressed in skin-tight spandex, bodies contorting and twisting into a myriad of shapes. Half a century of that seemed like it would be boring, but the asari didn't seem to mind it too much. All they had was time, after all.

Ripper had posted himself on one of the bar stools, hand on the counter. The other was wrapped around a yellow-colored drink that he was guzzling down, his eyes narrowed. Garrus followed his line of sight and found that he shouldn't have been surprised; the turian didn't just come here to make himself unhappy. He was looking out for his object of affection.

He slid into the seat next to Ripper and ordered, watching the bartender carefully. No foul play so far. The glass slid across the greasy counter and he pressed his mouth to the rim, trying to find the right configuration of words he could assemble without making things worse.

“She's been laughing with him all goddamn night,” Ripper seethed, angling himself toward the bartender and away from E. “Every time I look over there, she's got her head thrown back. He doesn't even have to say anything, just smiles! She's all over him. It's making me sick.”

Garrus snuck a glance. Well, that was new. He'd never seen E so jubilant before, so unabashedly happy. She stood in front of the table with a group of guys, but one in particular was talking to her and making eye contact. Judging by her body language, it was apparent that she was enjoying his attention.

“You know,” Garrus began, “things would be a lot easier if you just told her.”

 Ripper downed the shot and coughed. “Told her what?”

“Don't play stupid. It's obvious to everyone except her. Maybe if you let her know that you liked her, she would start something with you instead.”

The turian next to him pulled in his mandibles tight to his face, the motion so fast and hard that they clicked when they met back with his plates. “The hell do you know? I don't like her.”

Garrus sighed in agitation. It was like speaking with a child. “Ripper, stop. You need to be honest with yourself. You _like_ her.”

“I SAID I DON'T FUCKING LIKE HER!”

He slammed his drink down and the glass shattered in his grip. The bartender swept away the jagged shards scattered on the counter but was already eyeing security. It wasn't as if Ripper's behavior was abnormal. Things had gotten crazier than this. But the bartender knew how much he had to drink, and he knew that there could potentially be a fight between the two of them if Garrus didn't change his tone. A brawl wouldn't be unwelcome in most cases. However, this one would be if they were anywhere near the expensive racks of alcohol.

Garrus knew the risks of getting Ripper riled up, but he didn't see any other option. This whole thing with dancing around E was getting to be childish and not worth it.

“You really think you can come in here and lecture me? ME? After all your bullshit? You're one to talk, _G,_ ” he snarled, emphasizing the nickname he'd lent to E. “You think I don't notice the way she looks at you? It's sappier than that thing she's doing over there!” He pointed at the group of men and hadn't bothered to notice that E disappeared from the table. “And you keep dangling her along, giving her false hope. So don't feed me that. She's into you. Always has been. Ask anyone at the base and they'll tell you. You're the blind one here.”

It must have been the alcohol, because the room was swimming. Garrus' thoughts jumbled together and weaved in his head, no coherency available. He tried to make sense of what Ripper said, but it didn't fit. E had never, she wasn't...

“Think what you want,” Garrus heard himself saying. “But you're the one acting like an asshole. That guy over there, who you think she's fawning over? That's her brother.”

Ripper eyed the human men again. “No it isn't.”

“It _is._ Look at their uniforms. Blue Suns. Look at the color of his _rifle._ Green. Her favorite. Mohawk, brown eyes, studs in his ears? You're paranoid, Ripper. Making yourself sick because of preconceived notions you have about her.”

He was silent for a moment, then started to laugh. It was lighthearted, free. His shoulders shook with the intensity of it, and he ordered another shot through the deep chuckles. “Shit, man. Now I _do_ feel like a jackass. You're fuckin' right, it is her brother. All this time I was dreaming up ways how to strangle him. Can you imagine?”

“That's your last one. Finish up. We need to get back to base, and you need to get your priorities straight.”

“Whatever.” He leaned backwards and the nonchalance returned to his eyes, which had been clouded earlier with hatred and jealousy. “But let's get one thing straight: I. Do not. Like her.”

It was like trying to persuade Vortash into his monthly check-up; redundant, because it was not going to happen. “Fine. Let's go.”

Garrus led him back to base, making sure to steady the turian when he could. Ripper seemed inebriated enough that he didn't mind the necessary physical contact it took to make sure he didn't fall flat on his ass. There was a lot of stumbling, a pit stop where he had to puke in an alley, and shooing away kids who tried to pickpocket them while they were distracted with getting home safe.

By the time they got to the garage, Garrus was exhausted. He wasn't sure how Shepard managed to do the same thing on shore leave back on the SR-1, always cleaning up her crew's mess.

Before Ripper made his way to the recovery room that Weaver was in, he turned back and shot Garrus a look. “I don't get what she sees in you. It's so fucking unfair.”

“You're drunk and crazy,” Garrus shook his head. “It isn't like that.”

“You would know, right? You've been around enough humans to be sure. An expert.”

The bitterness in his undertones was enough to make something in his stomach clench. He really believed that. The downtrodden look, the slump of his shoulders. This was coming from his squadmate and friend, which made it ten times worse. Garrus wasn't sure what to say, as he felt incredibly awkward at the insinuation, and couldn't word a reply that wouldn't offend Ripper somehow. He opted instead for the silent route.

* * *

 

Garrus wasn't sure how he made it the next day, ready and raring to go. After all of the strange thoughts he had to sort out last night, he managed to get enough sleep for him to be fully functional and aware. He and Sidonis were tracking down a saboteur, someone who had repeatedly gotten in the way of their carefully constructed plans. He wasn't sure how the person was getting the jump on them, but they had traced some information back to the source, and it was time to weed out the last of the vermin.

“Find anything out yet about the slaver problem?”

He sighed. “No.”

Despite not wanting Sidonis to participate in tracking down the slaver that had an interest in E, Garrus felt obligated to tell someone. The turian he'd worked with since the very beginning when they'd planned to piece together a team seemed like the right choice. They'd been through everything together since he landed on Omega, so it wasn't right that he would keep him in the dark. He knew that Sidonis wasn't as valuable as the other three he assigned to the job, but it still felt right to let him in on the side project. Better than having Sidonis accuse him of something else, or questioning him outright in front of the others and blow the operation. He was far from stupid, and pretty perceptive.

“Can't believe the guy you found didn't squeal.”

“What can I say? He was a veteran. He must have been through a lot to get where he was. I eventually told Monteague to stop; the guy would have said anything at a certain point to get rid of the pain. Still felt good watching the vid of it though. Bastard. He had the nerve to sit there and say that the people he captured deserved it because they didn't have the means to fight back.”

“At least Krul was able to get a reading from his omnitool information. Once he combs through the data, I'm sure you'll find the next link in the chain.”

They paused outside of the apartment suite, the empty streets in their favor for a nice friendly house visit. “I hope so. I know we can't get rid of all the bosses who put their names in Blueshift's itinerary....the least we can do is kill one of them. Then Krul could hack into his system, whoever it is, and purge the data about E and all of the other slaves they were holding. Maybe reroute a few orders here so we could free the majority of them. We can't save them all, but...we can sure damn try, can't we?”

Garrus pulled up his omnitool and hacked the security system outside, the door opening with a quiet hiss. His visor scanned for heat signatures and he found one further in the back, behind a few walls. Good. The man was unaware that they'd intruded. To make sure that no one could sneak up behind them, Sidonis stayed back and guarded the door. It was a small job, so they didn't need the same numbers that they did back when they were ridding the galaxy of one of the biggest red sand dealers, or trying to pinpoint a serial killer.

He made sure to check his corners, gun drawn. The way that he crept out of the line of sight made him remember the first time that Shepard found him, outside the med clinic on the Citadel. He thought that he was doing good by getting the jump on the thugs, whirling around and placing a well-aimed shot between the guy's eyes. His temporary high was all but eradicated once all the targets were down and Shepard backed him against the wall, preaching about the safety of others' lives. He never knew a human could be so intimidating before.

Damn it. No more thoughts about Shepard. What was the human saying that Flight Lieutenant Moreau muttered after the funeral?

_“Let sleeping dogs lie.”_

In the same fashion, he rounded the corner and caught the perp who had been successfully stepping in their way. Unaware of the other presence in the room still, even when Garrus had a gun drawn and could have blasted a hole in his suit. But he opted for a better surprise, something he had been wanting to experience since Krul had.

He pulled up the hacking interface on his omnitool once again and scanned the volus' suit. The hardware came up on his platform and Garrus typed away, going through lines of code until he reached the primary function status. There we go. He put in a command and watched it all come together.

“Great to see you, Har Urek,” Garrus called out, making the volus jump nearly out of his suit. “I was wondering when we'd get to meet.”

“Ar-Archangel? _Ksst!_ Oh— _ksst_ —no!”

“That's me. Seems you've been having a lot of fun getting in our way. Normally I would ask you what reasons you had for trying to stop us from pursuing justice, but I wouldn't want to waste my breath.”

“Please I— _kssst_ — _I_ didn't mean t-to— _kssst ksst_ —what is— _ksst_ —what have you— _ksst_ —done?”

Garrus watched the volus panic from behind his helmet visor, savoring the way that the voice modulator flashed with every short inhale he took. “Oh, well, I just figured I'd return the favor. You like stopping things, don't you? Cutting off our plans, making us choke?”

“Aargh!” His tiny, stubby hands went to his neck. A universal sign of distress. He couldn't quite wrap his fingers around but still flailed and fumbled, as if the gestures would somehow fix the malfunction. With every word there was a strangled breath between, breath hitching and becoming more desperate as he went along. “Archangel, please— _ksst_ —I beg you— _ksssssst_ —mercy!”

“Mercy? I'd love to hear your thoughts about it. Go on. I'm listening.”

The volus' vitals weakened, heart rate declining, body temperature falling. Garrus read through the data that scrolled across his visor and got comfortable. Watching the smaller alien drop down to his knees, no expression painted on his masked face, but the desperation seeping from his begs and pleas. It made it all the more rewarding.

When the air flow finally cut off, and there was nothing left to breathe, he collapsed on the floor.

Garrus watched him until the luminescent orbs in his helmet flickered, sputtered, and died.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Has anyone else realized I have a jealousy kink? No? Well, you will.


	19. Exchange

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Garrus learns. So does she.

“Vid genre.”

“Horror.”

“No kidding?”

E laughed, her shoulders shaking with the notion. “I'm a complete freak, I know. Not anything too gory, but I like to be scared. Old Earth classics are usually a good mix of cheesy and downright terrifying, if a little dramatic. What are turian ones like?”

“We'll have to rent one sometime.”

“Or pirate.”

“Because that's the sort of example that Archangel should set for civilians. Promoting the illegal download trade. Your turn.”

“Um...okay, I got one: alcoholic drink.”

Garrus mandibles flicked. “Shouldn't you know this? I've been at the bar plenty of times and had to spend a small fortune just to get to talk to you.”

She lifted her brows in response, and her full lips curved into a slight smile. “But you don't drink that out of pleasure, it's to put on a front. If I were to go to the bar and ask what you wanted me to make, anything, what would it be?”

“An FTL Slingshot.”

“Really? Wow. You don't play around. I've seen that put most turians – and a few brave quarians – under the table.”

“I never said I would get through it without some kind of repercussion. It's irresistible.”

“Too bad I can't try any. Maybe if we talk about the ingredients, I can make a levo-version of it for me to recreate. And I'll make you a...whiskey sour. It's one of the classics. Wait, what do you prefer? Sour, or sweet?”

“Not so fast. My turn to ask one.”

Melenis interrupted their conversation, coming into Garrus' room with a knock as a warning. “Sorry to bug you guys. I sent you a couple of messages but you never responded. Monteague's back. Said he had some information for you, Archangel. Did you want me to tell him about the sleeping situation?”

“I will,” E offered. “Sorry we have to cut our session short. But we can talk later this weekend.”

“Looking forward to it.” Garrus watched her leave the room and thanked Melenis for the info.

Monteague had been doing great work about gathering intel, something he had overlooked when he assigned the other three to the job. He was the one doing the runs; while the others had old contacts and an impressive amount of experience, they sent Monteague out to feel out their leads. It was a good deal. They were well-known themselves, their faces burned into the minds of people who were old enough to remember them. But Monteague was new to the game, or so others thought, and was slippery in the way that he dealt with others. In and out, gathering tips, piecing together the puzzle that they hoped to solve...and soon.

E's brother was off station. While the Blue Suns had a lot of connections on Omega, the gang wasn't limited here. They had a lot of other engagements that required travel. It just so happened that there was some kind of operation that was going on elsewhere, and her sibling had been recruited to participate. Garrus wasn't comfortable with her staying by herself in the district, despite the protection that the rest of the gang offered; he wanted her safe, first and foremost, as a friend. If that meant her bunking in the base for a few weeks or so, he was glad to do it.

The others agreed with his decision. While the majority of them weren't aware of her bounty, they didn't think that she should be alone in her apartment. Working at the more popular bar already made them wary. They didn't need to invite trouble by letting her live without her brother's protection.

Garrus felt that the best arrangement for her stay was to room with Monteague. He knew that because of Monteague's interests, there would be no complications between them; the two got along over numerous similar hobbies, so there weren't going to be any fights. Not only that, but they were friends. She had referred to Monteague by his first name in the recent past, which suggested that the tactical cloak expert saw her more than a simple informant, but someone close enough to provide personal info to.

E came into Garrus' quarters earlier with a shy smile and suggested spending some time together. It had been a while since the two had anything to talk about besides business, and her company was refreshing. Everyone else had tales to share of previous conquests or managed to weave some kind of business update into their conversations. She was different. She spoke of her past home life, how she viewed Omega, encouraged his work. Hearing those words from a civilian meant a lot more than the practiced lines that the others in the squad fed him, and they got along so well. He enjoyed her company and, judging by the smile she gave him, she felt the same way.

“If you get need me, you know where to find me. Turian body temperatures run hot. I know you don't like to be cold.”

E sucked in a deep breath and couldn't help but humor Ripper. “I'll keep it in mind. Thanks for the offer, but I think Monteague and I will be just fine.”

“Just saying, blankets don't got nothin' on me. And you won't regret it.”

As usual, Ripper hounded after E once he found out she was in the general vicinity. He continuously expressed interest about wanting to share his bed with her once her predicament was shared with the group. He wasn't as aggressive as Garrus thought he would be, merely dropping not-so subtle hints as opposed to coming outright and demanding it, or following her around the base.  As a matter of fact, it might've been Weaver's influence that managed to keep his brother in check. Or maybe Ripper's self-control had strengthened since his bout at the bar where he made a complete ass out of himself.

Garrus met with Monteague and found that the other three were already there. The meeting was important, then. He took a seat at the head of the table and braced himself for what they had to say.

“Killing up the chain got a little...messy.” Monteague leaned forward in his chair and his brows furrowed. “The good news is, I found the house of operations, including the personal living quarters of the boss.”

He typed in a code on his omnitool and a hologram flickered to life, showing a detailed picture of the man in question. Krogan, surprisingly. Many of them were more interested in doing bounty work or mercenaries, or like Patriarch at _Afterlife_ , staying in control of a crime hub. Krogan were never one for slaves in their past; they humiliated their rivals by killing them outright and using their dead bodies as trophies, not subjecting them to years of servitude.

The krogan stared back at them and his entire face was mangled with scars. Garrus briefly remembered Wrex mentioning on the SR-1 that it was considered an attractive trait toward the female of his kind. But how much was too much? Deep, thick lines burned and sliced into this krogan were spread out across the vast expanse of his face. The scar tissue was downright excessive, but the sharpness of his amber eyes spoke volumes about the experience he gained from surviving with them. Instead of the armor he was used to seeing krogan sport, the alien was dressed in something that would have made Selkeet Shirion look like a servant.

It didn't make sense. What he knew of krogans suggested that they were all about conflict, war, head on fights and not wasting money on excessive accessories that appealed to the other races. Most would take a new set of armor over a fine suit any day, but this was not the case; this krogan chose to pursue a life that would end in inevitable riches. Buying and selling others as if they were property, lining his pockets, and indulging in the activities that made everyone else look soft in comparison. He wasn't about to charge headfirst into a gunfight, but sit in his recliner and let other do it for him while he raked in the profit.

The fact that Wrex would probably hate him made Garrus feel a bit better.

“The bad news is, despite all of my discretion, someone on the inside noticed the pattern of kills.” Monteague tried to keep his cool, but the emotion was bubbling underneath. They could all feel it. “As such, our slaver boss here, Kron Harga, has more than doubled his security efforts. Infiltrating his home is proving to be...difficult.”

Erash cut into the conversation. “The blueprints of his hideout are outdated. Even if I had a recent copy, we would be going in blind; he's no doubt made serious changes to the layout since he acquired the building. One thing about crime bosses: their paranoia makes it so that they stay on top. Even if I were to find anyone who worked on his plans before, they would be loyal to him if they weren't already killed just in case.”

“So we know where he lives, his name, but no immediate access.” Garrus thought a moment. “If I involve Krul, would he be able to hack into their systems? A tech expert could be useful in a situation like this. Getting into his personal schedule and rearranging some things, minor dates, could instead get him to personally oversee a side job.”

“That, or we could instead look into his schedule and see where he will be. At a meeting or some time alone – another place we are familiar with,” Vortash countered. “Krul is trustworthy, but often too overzealous with his efforts. Subtlety in a situation like this would overwhelm him.”

At one in the morning, after the meeting was done with, Garrus headed to bed. His mind still reeled with the decision they'd made together, and he wanted to double check with Monteague to make sure that he felt it was best. As the unofficial leader of the squad, Garrus had final say, but it helped to have input from his crew.

After staring at the ceiling for at least half an hour, he pulled himself up from the chair and headed down the hall to Monteague's room.

He hadn't expected the sniper to be in bed, let alone have E resting on his chest. It was a strange sight. Garrus had never been into other species' pornography before, not even out of mild interest. It just seemed strange. On the Citadel he'd seen tons of human couples, but obviously none of them engaged in such an intimate position. Monteague was lying in bed, on his back, with one arm curled around E. Her hand was on his chest and she tucked into him, curves fitting in ways that hadn't been possible with Ripper and her hug. She was asleep, eyes closed, hair in disarray, completely oblivious to his presence.

And he felt...awkward. Which was strange, because he'd burst in on his moments with her and Ripper before, and that had always left him more confused and a bit tickled at the other turian's interactions with her. Seeing her in such a vulnerable state, with Monteague showing that same weakness, made him feel as though he was intruding.

But it was clear that she and Monteague weren't like that. Despite the way that they...fit together, how easily she molded her frame into his, and how natural it looked, it wasn't right. He wished that it was. They were so suited for each other.

Butler was on the right track when he spoke about her before; she was young, naïve. Someone like Ripper, who was brash and impatient, wouldn't have been able to go slow enough with her. That's why this sort of trust between them didn't exist. What E needed was a person who was meticulous. Patient. A sniper. Not a soldier who gunned down his targets, charging with a heavy pistol. Someone who stood on the sidelines and aimed their shots with care, picking off the threats from a distance so she never had to get close enough to be in danger.

Monteague shifted, the muscles beneath his undershirt flexing against the thin fabric. Garrus drew his eyes away, trying not to linger on the continued serene expression that E held despite his movement. The other sniper's eyes gleamed underneath the few slivers of light that came from the bedside lamp in the corner of the room. A question written in them.

Garrus waved his hands, a sign that humans generally took as a 'never mind, don't bother'. Monteague understood and nodded before getting comfortable again, E unaware the entire time.

Finally settled in his own cot, and staring at the ceiling, Garrus wondered what it was about the scene that intrigued him so much.

He and E had lunch together later that weekend, just as she'd mentioned. She wasn't one for breakfast and he wanted to hang out with her more, so they made it a point to have the afternoon to themselves. He had some business to discuss with her but didn't want to spring it on her just yet. So while they both piled their plates with leftovers from the previous night, and settled in the lounge, they ate and watched the newest Blasto movie.

“What would an asari see in a hanar?” She asked after another romance scene played out.

“I don't know,” Garrus started, “what do they see in humans?”

“Ha, ha, G.” She sipped at her drink, eyes never leaving the screen. “We look enough alike. And we come in varying skin tones. We're...exotic.”

“Is that why they go for turians, too?” he mused. “Color variation?”

“Maybe. Or they just buck up and bond for the genetic information swap.”

Both of them laughed. “Now that's just rude.”

“I'm only joking. I can see why asari like turians. And drell. Salarians, questionable, what with their lack of sex drives and stuff. Krogan...confusing. And vorcha? Why? I didn't think that would ever happen, but I was sorely mistaken once I started at _Afterlife_. Credits from thugs in the Blood Pack are still credits, after all.”

He thought maybe he could dance around it, but ended up blurting his thoughts aloud. Turians weren't good at lying or keeping secrets. “You and Monteague are close, aren't you?”

“You can say that,” she agreed. “We've agreed to be platonic life partners.”

“Oh? Is that a human thing?”

“I don't know. I'm not exactly the type of person he's sexually interested in. But we've made a pact; if we're still single in ten years, we'll get married. Live together, reap the benefits. Adopt some kids. No sex, though cuddling wouldn't be off limits.” After watching the confused look on his face, she laughed again, shaking her head. “I'm being dramatic. We did make a silly pact, but it's only because we don't think we'll end up with anyone any time soon. We could live together and be happy that way, but not alone. Paul and I have a lot in common despite our many differences.”

He almost did a double-take. “Paul?”

“Monteague,” she corrected. “You know, he's the one who's more likely to find someone out of the two of us. He's really good looking. His biggest fault is that he's painfully shy.”

His mandibles twitched in mirth. “Didn't seem that way when he charmed a few criminals out of their guard.”

“But it wasn't real, just feigned. Monteague's an actor: great on stage, but when he's not putting on a persona, he's just as vulnerable as the next guy, probably even more sensitive. Though, like I said, he's got great potential. I'm sure someone in his life will want to treat him well. As for me, not happening. Hey, you could be my second platonic life partner if things between he and I don't work out. Although I'm convinced you're incredibly handsome by turian standards, so that'd be a lost cause too.”

Garrus raked over her expression and found something he couldn't quite place. “Oh? Trying to flatter me now? After all that talk about asari just using us for genetic code?”

E tried to hide a grin. “I think bright blue eyes speaks volumes across any species. And you have a really nice voice. Not to mention you're a hell of a shot, dependable, have a great sense of humor...but you didn't hear it from me.”

Her face flushed and she fumbled with her hands. She was uncomfortable? Strange.

He tried to put her at ease with a small joke. “I'll be sure to keep that in mind when I'm making my extranet dating profile.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I see you, E. You think you're slick.


	20. Preparations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Omega's hosting a very important guest. Garrus isn't sure he's ready for a royal welcome just yet.

Kron Harga was on Omega.

He loaded another thermal clip, concentrating. The target stared back at him with no expression. As a stand in, he mentally glued a picture of the smug krogan on its head. The conveyor belt shifted and the cardboard dummies danced, one of each species. He needed to practice his head shots. No chance to waver now, especially not facing down a possible scenario that could happen in the next few days.

By some odd stroke of luck, some dumb coincidence, Kron Harga was on Omega.

He settled the rifle and leveled it out, his visor already correcting any minor refractions from recoil. He wanted to use the gun that E provided him with, from the coded voucher she snagged off the grimy table in the bar. She didn't have to, but she believed in his cause. Wanted justice too. If that meant using it, in a nod to her, in executing one of the most despicable men in the galaxy, then so be it. He would savor the way that the blood poured from the wound in his head.

In a suspicious and highly dangerous way, Kron Harga was on Omega.

How long would it take before someone caught sight of E? She'd done a great job in maintaining her appearance. She stayed out of the limelight, ducking into shadows and making herself scarce when she wasn't serving drinks. For a few weeks there, she had even only made it a point to be the private waitress to some of the VIP guests, with names on a list she could look out for. Her safety was what was important. The image posted of her across all of the criminals' desks looked nothing like she did now, but how far would someone go to connect the dots and try to gain a bounty?

The pawn was in place and there was a score to settle; Kron Harga was on Omega, and Garrus was going to make damned sure that it would be his last trip alive.

It saved him the time of tracking him down. Monteague had gotten so weary since they found out that the slaver boss had upped the security. Everyone voted to keep Krul out of it. Vortash, Erash and Sensat all did their part, gathering tiny bits of information that contributed to the grand scale of things. They chipped away at the mysterious shroud that seemed to envelop the bastard. He was clever. Had to be in his line of work, never trusting, always waiting to be stabbed in the back. It only took a few dozen deaths to reach the intel they received now.

Garrus was sure someone had matched up E's profile to the one that was on Kron's database. Why else would he make a trip here? He was the head honcho, as the humans liked to put it; he didn't need to be on the streets doing his own business. The dirty work was always left to the goons that he hired. Something made him get on his private ship and head all the way out here, and he doubted that it was the krogan's ideal vacation spot.

And when Kron Harga was on Omega for business, he's expected to pay his dues to the woman in charge just like everyone else.

Which was a problem. Big one. Because Aria T'Loak never left her shitty, drug-infested, boozy club, not for anyone. If the krogan was going to make sure he contributed enough to his gracious host, he would do it in person. On her terms, in her turf. Not at neutral ground, because that suggested weakness or willingness to compromise from Aria. She expected Kron Harga to kiss the ring on her finger in her own home.

At _Afterlife._

Where E worked.

He watched pieces of the cardboard flutter to the ground, ripped off the target's shoulders clean. The explosion of the bullet ripping through was satisfying. It always was.

Employees at _Afterlife_ didn't get many sick days. If they took the day off without the clear from their superiors, which was almost never approved unless they were about to die from some kind of infectious illness, they weren't allowed to return to work. Aria needed competent people who understood how valuable their positions at her club were. Anyone who disrespected her by blowing off work for a shitty reason wasn't allowed to return. If they did, well...there were a multitude of possibilities for her thugs to settle the score between them. Pay back her advance in full or resort to other consequences. Because that nice credit transfer she gave to all of her new employees was nothing but a contract written and signed in blood.

The Blue Suns sent E's brother on another off-station mission.

She was still alone.

In an empty apartment in the slums out in Gozu District, working at the very bar where she was most likely to be recognized by one of the most experienced and deadly slavers in the Terminus.

Shit, shit, shit.

He could fix this, though. He was Archangel.

His omnitool expertise had increased since he was on his own. He'd always known a little bit about tech, hence why he was the appointed mechanic for the Mako on the SR-1. Living on his own in Omega for a while there, helped him get used to hacking and exploring the depths of its usage. Krul was their expert, but for something as simple as getting E's schedule changed, he was able to get into _Afterlife's_ systems. It took him nearly twelve hours and thousands of tries. He did it, though, replacing her name with another waitress and giving a mental apology for the ungodly hours she was going to work.

Garrus' next step was to get E away from all of it, if only for a little while. He needed Monteague and the other three older squadmates. They were the ones aware of the operation. Sidonis was as well, but he and E never really got to know each other. In order to keep her out of harm's way, he had to make sure she was out of Kron's reach.

He hesitated outside of the door, thinking up possible ways to approach the situation. But it all came down to involving someone else, someone who wouldn't give her up. He trusted his men, but a personal connection was needed so they wouldn't be persuaded, violent or otherwise, to hand her over if she'd been followed.

“Ripper. I have to talk to you about something important.”

“I'm busy.” The other turian was lying on his back, eyes closed and relaxed.

Not even close. “If you care about E, you'll listen to me.”

“What do I care?”

“You need to take her to Zen District.”

Ripper's body stiffened. “The place with all the love hotels and shit? Are you fuckin' crazy?”

“You know that place inside and out, it was where you and Weaver spent a lot of your time before you joined my squad. You know the safest place, and it isn't popular any more now that there's a newer district closer to Aria's place. No one goes there except for vermin, it's all but abandoned, right?”

“Sure. Not sure where you're going with this, though.”

“You can't ask me any more questions. E's off for the next few days. You need to keep her occupied, away from the base.”

Slowly, Ripper shifted, picking himself up. He hung onto the bars of the bedframe and stared Garrus down, trilling with suspicion. “Oh yeah? You want me to kidnap her and what, fuck her silly like we're on our goddamn honeymoon? Keep dreaming, fuckwad.”

“She knows she has to leave, it isn't kidnapping. And she knows why. But you can't ask her, not until I give the okay. Her brother isn't around to protect her. You have to be that person. We don't need to make things look suspicious by sending more than one person with you guys, especially in a place where no one even travels to. Take what supplies you need and hide out.”

Stubborn son of a bitch. “Why don't you?”

“I'm one of the only things keeping her alive. Are you going to do it, or not? She trusts you, Ripper.”

He continued to hesitate. The Ripper he knew would've jumped at the opportunity, why the sudden self control? “Trust, huh? That's a big word. You sure about that?”

“When I gave her the details, she chose you. By name.”

“That so? Hmm...” He made a move to pick up his duffel bag from the floor, steps still sluggish and deliberate. As if he was debating whether the entire thing was a joke and anticipating a cruel punchline. “That bitch has been nothing but a pain in my ass. Putting me through all this fuckin' bullshit, and for what? Fine. You got your man.”

He wanted to know why Ripper was acting so strangely, but if E was aware of anything dire, she would have brought it up. She seemed to be able to read him well enough; hell, the first time he made fun of her, she didn't need the subvocals to recognize that he was bullying her.

Garrus watched them from a safe distance when Ripper picked her up from the apartment. The conversation was heated for a bit, the turian making his body language aggressive enough to show his displeasure at the situation. Judging by his obnoxious flanging, it sounded as if he was trying to drill her for specifics on the mission. She held her own though, crossing her arms, defiant. She was far from intimidating, not with that round, soft face, but her stubbornness eventually got under Ripper's plates and he stomped away with her in tow.

Monteague met up with him back at base. “Erash is tailing him from _Afterlife_. I'm backup in case he loses him.”

“Good. I'll be in range. Let me know exactly where he's staying and Vortash and I are on it. You pick off the guards, we'll pay him a visit.”

Vortash wasn't exactly great for recon, considering he was so large. He preferred to knock doors down with his shotgun, a very krogan-like trait that Garrus had come to appreciate. “The things we do for this human. All of this extra time spent into increasing her survival. What valuable information has she even given us as of late?”

Garrus glanced at him, wondering if his partner was serious. He was. “She just gave us a lead last week. Headshot? Rhi'hesh Shurta, the leader of the White Dwarfs? The entire gang disbanded because of that kill, the kids they recruited were either killed off by us in the meeting or went underground. All of them were young, idiots. If they try to get into another of the bigger gangs they'll either have to rack up a lot of street cred or try to hide their past association, considering that organization wasn't exactly popular.”

The krogan scoffed. “All I am contributing is my own opinion. She is insufferable. Leeching from us since the day she came. I was wary of her at first, and my disapproval was calmed by recent action, but that leader was hardly as noteworthy as our earlier kills. She is holding back.”

“Or we've been making enough waves that the bigger bosses are trying to lay low, which is entirely possible and twice as probable. She's done a lot for us, a good information source.”

“Until she is threatened.” He made it a point to turn his body toward Garrus, hulking shoulders blocking out the light from one of the street lamps and the overhead signs. “She is a coward, Archangel. I am in this to protect the people as a whole, not an individual.”

He'd never felt this protective before. “A coward would have sold us out the first chance we got. We've known her for almost two years, Vortash. In all that time she's been giving us information without asking for any compensation. I know Melenis is entirely neutral about her, but you seem to be the only one who dislikes her so much.”

Vortash shook his head slowly, gripping the gun and his gaze shifting toward the streets. “Exactly. How is it that she's been tolerated by so many others?”

“Because she's not like the other people here. The scumbags, the ungrateful bigots. She supports us, and she's a good person.”

“Manipulative, you mean,” he drawled.

Before Garrus could provoke him further with a response, the comm crackled.

Show time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I totally dig the idea that Vortash couldn't give a single fuck about E, but he still puts his best foot forward because he respects Garrus enough to go through with the mission.


	21. Seeing Red

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If there was one thing Garrus disagreed with Shepard on, it was that everyone deserved mercy.

The skycar that Kron took was one of three. The krogan must have felt some pressure, as his armed guards were plentiful and seemed to encircle him from all sides. When he moved, they scanned the area, clearing the path ahead and sticking close when they needed to.

From a sniping position, Garrus could see how frustrating it would be. Looking at the target through his own scope, to track his movement, he watched as Kron moved about his own hideout with as much paranoia as a red sand dealer who sampled his own stuff. He seemed unconcerned himself, with a pompous swagger that most crime bosses had, but the armed escorts spoke volumes. As much confidence as he put on display, all toothy smiles and laughter, he was still being cautious.

For good reason.

Outside there was a single entrance with a convoy of guards who walked the perimeter and stationed themselves out the door. They checked in every ten minutes or so with each other, keeping in constant radio contact.

Good thing Garrus had picked up one of the more complex and efficient scramblers from Krul's workshop before they left. He calibrated it as necessary with his omnitool and knew that it was crunch time. Ten minutes. In ten minutes they would notice the lack of communication between their posts and get suspicious. That suspicion would lead to them trying to reconvene with each other and setting off an alarm, alerting the krogan inside that there was security breach.

Play it slow, play it cool.

Monteague knew the game. No expression beyond his helmet, but the recoil damper mod he attached to his Viper made everything seem so effortless and clean. His tactical cloak rippled while he lined up two shots and took them, one after the other, no pause in between. Garrus never favored that model over the Mantis; more shots, sure, but the power of impact could never measure. The sniper knew what he was doing, however, and didn't let the damage discrepancy hinder his progress. He adjusted in angling the point of entry just so that brain matter exited out their heads, shields torn down and health eviscerated in a single shot. He was no amateur.

Erash was seasoned as well. Stationed at his own post, around the other side of the building, he moved fluidly along the outskirts of the hideout. Lurking just in the shadows, slipping in and out, picking off guards before they had time to realize that their partner's head was missing. They dropped, one after the other, limp bodies crumpling in a mix of brain matter, blood, and bits of skull. Armor melted through and through, the suits shutting down when the life support systems failed its host.

Four minutes left and all targets eliminated. It was clear outside, enough for him and Vortash to approach.

The cameras were shut down, video feed on replay. Which made sense, because the guards had a strict routine, so whoever was on-duty wouldn't have noticed the change right away. At least, not for a few cycles. As far as they knew, whoever they were, things were routine and going just as planned. No hiccups. A quiet night.

Garrus hacked the door and it let them both in, slipping inside. There were only a few more guards inside with Kron Harga himself, seeing as how he didn't think that many would make it past his first few lines of defense. Monteague and Erash kept their posts outside, lingering and waiting in case there were any changes. In a while one of them would venture inside for cover fire, slinking behind Garrus and Vortash, falling just so that they could cover their tracks and watch their backs. Or move forward when the opportunity rose, finding a nest where they could watch and observe.

It was a small factory, as far as Omega buildings went. Something off the grid, easy to keep in line. It wasn't as obvious as a hotel room, and it probably had more luxuries anyway. Omega hospitality wasn't nice anywhere you went, and judging by Kron's state of dress, he was used to a certain kind of treatment. Paid with the lives of hundreds he sold into slavery.

Besides, Kron probably had a special room elsewhere that he slept in. He was doing some late night business now, a favor for Aria. Erash was his eyes, infiltrating the building just as planned, giving him a play-by-play of what was going on up ahead.

Garrus and Vortash made their way in, quiet. The blueprints of this place weren't too recent, but the basic layout was the same; they had to get through a room swimming with tech before they made it to the factory floor. An obvious front for the illegitimate business going on during hours.

Beyond the double doors they'd face the krogan slaver. Before Garrus made the move for the push, he caught a mirage of images on the nearest console.

Slave profiles, basic descriptions. Much like the ones he read on the batarian's datapad that E gave him months ago.

He couldn't help himself. He opened up his omnitool, linked into the system. Brought up a search query with E's description, just the basics. Trying to find the flagged news for her bounty.

It popped up with a little bit of effort, something that surprised him. Until he realized that he had gotten into Kron's personal file for her, separate from the one he found with her picture.

_Assigned code: 2958-65787_

_Blueshift applicant. Status: accepted._

_Current whereabouts: unknown_

_Bounty: 10,000 credits_

_A few offers so far. Most interested in a young, vulnerable, fertile female. Guess we krogan aren't so different from the other races after all. The good doctor completed the failsafe chip, only need to install it in a few hours._

_At Blueshift, she'll be accepted into one of the big bosses' crime organization and trained with secrets, infused with loyalty. Until we activate our own little secret. Kidnap her back, learn everything. He'll think that she won't talk because of her training, but we have other methods of ensuring she gets results._

_She'll be useless after that. An empty shell, seeing as how the doctor STILL didn't work out the kinks with extracting information. Nothing but a worthless hunk of meat. We can rebrand her and give her to one of the gourmet chefs, as human is still a rare treat these days. She is pretty big. They could turn her into something delicious, and I've been meaning to sample something exquisite lately._

_Don't really care what happens after that. Slap a collar on her and she'll get wet on command. Maybe red sand for kicks? Withdrawals are popular, considering she'd do just about anything for another fix. Her medical exam back on the ship showed no signs of any drug use, even when Ghorgash managed to get a urine sample for analysis. So she'd be easily hooked on the stuff._

_Whatever the case, valuable in a multitude of ways. Not a typical pick from the pack, but for some reason, her eccentricities are what intrigues this lot. I don't get it. Human women are supposed to be lithe and feline, at least that's what our previous demographic showed. Her features aren't exactly the standard of beauty, but maybe untouched by gene therapy is what makes it so primal._

_Can't wait to find her. She won't be able to hide forever._

The factory dabbled in black market explosives.

Garrus punched a hole in the crate that Kron Harga was inspecting and sent the krogan soaring into the air from the blast radius. He screamed when his scales caught on fire, the flames digging past his natural armored protection, the fine tunic he had wrapped around his body the perfect igniting agent. Whatever material it was made out of, it reacted nicely to the chemical reaction, and couldn't be put out with a few strangled, surprised screams.

The krogan rolled over on his side, paralyzed. Third degree burns raked his body, the scars from before unrecognizable from the charred remains of his outer hide. It oozed and bled between the red cracks present in the black aftermath. One of his eyes refused to open and his mouth was shut, unable to form any words.

Garrus strode out into the open, Sensat grinning at him from the sidelines, casting a biotic barrier on him as he walked. Any remaining soldiers came out and tried to take him down, a rain of bullets giving away their position. Vortash sought them out with a vengeance, gunning each down, Erash helping him at his own leisure.

With every other guard dead and bleeding out on the floor, Sensat let the bubble dissipate and swept through the room, lifting the bodies and showing them off to the crime boss, dangling them in the air in a macabre show of what they had done.

He was Archangel. The epitome of justice, a personification of righteousness. In the custom-painted armor he received from the corporation with the voucher E gave him, her rifle steady and a comfortable weight in his palms. He strutted up to the krogan who was attempting to curl up and stop some of the wounds from gushing out torrents of blood.

“Lift him,” Garrus ordered. Sensat did.

Kron's body dangled in the air and he was set down on his feet, his torn body laid bare. No more clothes to paint him as anything less than a monster, no infuriating smile on his face. He was naked, burnt to shit, nothing about him the same as it was not thirty seconds ago.

“A worthless hunk of meat,” he echoed Kron's words, thinking to the entry he'd read.

Without waiting for the krogan to attempt a response, Garrus lifted his rifle and cracked the butt of it into his face with as much force as he could. He knew that their heads were incredibly thick, so he was happy to do it again. Again. Again. Until he felt the bones turn brittle and a hairline fracture started near the krogan's cheekbone. For good measure, he smashed and rammed some more, until the bone crumpled underneath the weight of his gun.

Sensat dropped the body and Garrus stood over him. Pinned him down into the ground one limb at a time. Left arm, left leg, right leg, right arm, a perfect circle that led back to the mangled head. With only one eye left that was open to watch him and little else. He aimed his gun at the primary organs, as he knew krogans had more than one set. Picked them off. Liver, heart, lungs, letting the bullet tear through flesh and dig deep, serrated edges of the armor-piercing rounds shredding anything soft underneath.

The only thing that sounded off in the room was Kron's muffled cries of agonizing pain, torturous grunts and long, drawn-out gasps while he tried to suck in air. His body went into overdrive to repair the damage, but there were too many problems to deal with at once; the flaking remains of his plates, blood oozing from his wounds, the shards of bone lodged in various places across the vast expanse of his face.

Irreparable. Broken. The state he wanted E – and so many others – in.

Garrus was rooted to the spot and he waited the excruciating hour it took for Kron Harga to die. He watched the organ systems fail, the light in his eyes dim. He waited for the convulsions and the garbles curses under his breath to cease, the krogan's body put through as much abuse as was possible in such a short time. He almost wished that he had the means to capture and torture him like the way he deserved.

Complete disregard for innocent lives, and look where he ended up.

Sensat checked to make sure that he was dead. When Garrus was convinced, they turned heel and blew up the rest of the factory floor, happy to head back to base and purge the systems.

They'd do what they could for the victims who were already suffering.

“Ripper? Status report?”

“A-o-fuckin'-kay. We still banished, or what?”

“Everything's clear. Bring her home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who usually lets Garrus kill Sidonis in his loyalty mission? For the longest time I considered the "paragon" choice convincing him not to, but now that I'm older, I see why he went so off the rails to track this guy down. I'm still torn on what's right: letting him get his revenge or forcing him to walk away.
> 
> I bring it up because I sort of wanted to parallel his mindset with SIdonis to the one he has here in learning about Kron Harga.


	22. Trust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the first time in a while, Garrus could honestly say he was...happy.

When Garrus told the others about what he'd accomplished with his small band, they weren't angry. Sure, there was some whining about not having been picked, but for the most part, they were all just ecstatic at such a huge blow to one of the biggest trades on Omega.

Butler shouted something about a celebration, Melenis on his side joining in his chant. Mierin was more than happy to tinker with some fireworks, using the party as an excuse just to get something that exploded. Weaver said nothing but smiled and seemed tickled with the notion. The trio of veterans surprisingly supported the idea for recognition in their hard work, already trying to use the credits they'd salvaged from the job to pay for as much ryncol as they could. Monteague was exhausted and, still with blood staining his armor, told him it was a worthy victory. Sidonis was relieved it was all sorted out and was happy to unwind before his shift at scoping out the Blue Suns' territory later that week. Krul had no opinion, as he probably hated get-togethers, but the prospect of a break seemed to calm his frazzled nerves.

It took a few hours before Ripper and E showed up. He was glad to see she was okay, all cheerful hellos and visiting Mierin in the kitchen. The salarian wanted to whip up a special menu and sent her and Weaver on an errand to gather ingredients for what he needed. She left almost as soon as she got there, disappearing the way she came in.

About an hour after they left, Garrus was in his room, cleaning his rifle. The butt of the gun needed a little bit of furbishing after he went all out on the krogan's face, and he was pleased to see there was no lasting damage. He did get a little...out of control back there, but it was worth it. Feeling the slaver break underneath his hand and dealing out as much power as the other could take before he died, it was right. Showed him what it felt like to be pinned underneath someone's  boot and forced to squirm for their pleasure. He only wished that he set his visor to record the death so he could rewatch it later.

Ripper stormed into the room with nothing but a raging presence as his warning. The deep tremble of his subvocals were unmistakable, the sort of fury that was rarely seen in turians unless something atrocious happened. Garrus tried to maintain calm and continued to wipe down his gun, eyes glued to the figure who stood opposite of him.

“You son of a fucking _bitch_ ,” Ripper started, hands clenched at his sides. “A fucking slaver? You didn't tell me that E's been on a slaver's radar for MONTHS now?!”

He continued to work, trying not to give into temptation. The vibe that Ripper was giving off, coupled with his erratic voice, was making it hard to play the cool, calm leader.

“I kept it under wraps so we wouldn't have any incidents. It was resolved cleanly and E knew about everything.”

Ripper moved closer, bending forward and his mandibles flaring. “Except you didn't think to let me in on it? Do you have any idea how fucked up that is? _I_ should've been on that job, not those old-ass mercs! _I_ could've protected her. _I_ deserved to put the bullet in his head.” His fingers were tense while he pointed accusingly at Garrus. He was going to explode if his temper wasn't toned down.

“You did protect her, Ripper. You kept her safe and away from Kron Harga when we stormed his base. If I had mentioned this before, you would have wanted to take him on alone. I know you. If you had done that, gone in guns blazing, and you were hurt, or killed trying to save her...you know she would have never forgiven you.”

A strangled cry came from the other turian's throat and he whirled around. Paced. Back and forth, head bowed, fingers reaching up to run down his fringe. He was torn, and Garrus couldn't blame him. It was a lot to take in. All these months gone by and he had no clue that E was ever in more danger than normal. It didn't help that he was so reluctant to take the job in the first place, dragging E to Zen District and putting up a fight every step of the way.

Ripper's shoulders slumped and he locked eyes with Garrus. “It was your call, and...you made the right one. I just...I wanted...” He let out a frustrated sound and the look of defeat returned. “You don't know what it's like. She's a friend to you and nothin' else. E is...” He stopped himself before revealing too much, and cleared his throat. “Fuck, forget it. Do me a favor? Don't talk to me for the rest of the night, I need time to think.”

“Sure thing.”

Garrus watched him go, baffled at the sudden switch in behavior. Just when he thought he had Ripper figured out, he had dropped the vengeance he stomped in with and let it dull down to a simmer.

He heard voices down the hall and E's voice was among them, along with the crinkling of bags of food being taken out of wrappers. There was a pause and then an exclaim from Mierin that suggested he was more than happy with their results in grocery shopping. Some laughter followed and Garrus roused himself up from his cot, knowing he had to make an appearance soon.

Garrus and Sidonis mixed up the drinks since Mierin was cooking, both of them asking around the base what everyone wanted. They settled in at the lounge with their supplies, seeing as how Mierin became territorial when anyone tried to set foot in his kitchen. It was all well and good; the two turians were ribbing each other with trying to outdo the other in creating speedy drinks. Neither one had any idea what they were doing, and the levo-based alcohol made them a bit nervous, but trying to show off wasn't restricted to the battlefield.

“Hey,” Garrus began, shaking the cocktail mixer. “About E. What's your opinion on her?”

“Why do you ask?”

“Vortash was pretty vocal about his dislike for her when we were taking down Kron. It made me realize that maybe I haven't been really perceptive of others' reactions toward her. It also occurred to me that I never received any input from you.”

Sidonis shrugged and leaned on the counter. “She's fine, I guess.”

“You guess?” He glanced at the doorway to make sure no one was around, his visor giving him readings that confirmed the quick glance. “Be straight with me. Does she bother you?”

“You know I'm not racist, Garrus. If I was, I wouldn't be in the squad trying to protect the people of Omega. But humans are strange, and she is, too. She plays the pity card a lot, always the victim, and it reels people in. That's why Vortash doesn't like her, and it does get annoying. All she's ever done is bat her eyes and suddenly everyone wants to protect her like she's a child.” He set down the glass and topped it with a quick garnish, setting it on the tray with the others. “She's done a lot to help us, but that doesn't mean we all have to be her best friends. I mean, look at us. We all work together despite our differences; I can't stand Ripper but he's a hell of a shot.”

Garrus thought on his words for a moment and considered. “Do you not like Ripper because of his thing with E?”

“One of the reasons, sure. It just seems like...a waste. Dating aliens, I mean. Humans and turians aren't compatible. He's been making a complete dick out of himself ever since she showed up, and nearly everyone's been on her side. You don't think it's weird that when they first met, he wanted nothing to do with her, and now he can barely think straight when she's anywhere near him? It isn't natural.”

“If E was asari, would you feel the same?”

“Of course not. That would be different.”

“How?”

“Asari can couple with turians. Humans can't. And they've been around a lot longer than humans. If she was asari, she could have taken care of herself and not needed us to babysit while her brother's away on business. She would've been here because she chose to be, and would've been a lot tougher. None of these soppy looks to make everyone feel bad about her. We've done a lot, is all I'm saying, and it's not like she's the one gunning down criminals with the rest of us.”

He couldn't believe what he was hearing. “She's a civilian, Sidonis. We take up arms because they can't. It's the reason why we started this in the first place. People deserve to live somewhere and not have to worry about protecting themselves from other sentient lifeforms.”

Sidonis nodded to the door, gesturing that they had company. Sure enough, Vortash and Erash had wandered toward the table and startd to set up some cards. Their conversation had to be continued at a later date, then.

With the drinks finished, Garrus broke away from Sidonis' side, his mind reeling. He never would've thought that there'd be this much negativity toward their number one informant. Even though E hadn't gone on the missions herself, she'd put a serious ear the ground and gathered as many tidbits as she could to piece together something – anything – for his crew. Without her, he might've still been wandering the streets hoping for a lead, or trying to pay others and receive good intel without getting screwed over. She had done a lot more than just sit, cry and act helpless. And her involvement with them had benefited the entire station, not just herself.

Dinner was amazing. It had been a while since they found the occasion to make something decent, let alone eat together. Everyone huddled around the table and the stories between the crew members began. E sat by Monteague and Weaver, the three of them discussing a few things between themselves or staying silent and listening.

Butler got incredibly drunk because he claimed that he wasn't allowed to drink at home, and ended up giving an embarrassing tale of how he wandered out naked in public. Apparently, he stumbled into his future-wife, and she was so bothered by the scene that she called the police and filed a sexual harassment report. Later on they ended up dating. Go figure.

But the scene was...

It felt...

Right.

Because despite all of the corruption out there, the bullshit that Omega threw at them, they were here. Alive. Doing right by the citizens who ended up on this hunk of rock and elsewhere, wounding the gangs that tried to take advantage of the little guy. Slaver rings put into chaos, smuggled weapon shipments missing, drug deals busted, big meetings blown to shit. All of it amounted to their lasting legacy, where people could walk the streets with their heads held a little higher and more credits in their accounts. Shakedowns, beatings, murders, thefts...all of those things had gone down significantly, and the power balance was tipping in their favor.

Mierin's fireworks were a little excessive, but still a good show. Everyone laughed their ass off when Sensat nearly crapped his pants once the first one popped in the air with a dying squeal. He threatened to toss them out the window with his biotics out of embarrassment. They all crowded near the balcony and observed the lightshow, the mood settling back into mellow and a job well done.

The group dispersed once the food settled in their stomachs and the buzz of alcohol waned. It was a relaxed atmosphere still, the euphoria of the slavers not ebbing away any time soon, but rather taking on a more passive role in their attitudes. Garrus wandered over to the lounge, away from the others who were downstairs busying themselves, and lingered on the second floor. He looked over the ledge and took in a deep breath of air, the chill seeping into his plates.

He heard her footsteps, seeing as how she wasn't trying to scare him. She settled next to him near the open window, shuddering once the wind swept through.

“Something on your mind?”

“I just wanted to thank you. For everything.”

Garrus turned toward her after pushing himself off from the lean he had, eyes warm. “You don't have to do that.” Not when he'd heard so many cases about why she was useless.

“I do. And I wanted to...well.” She gestured at him to bend down, as if she was going to whisper something to him.

He obliged, bending in half, only to have her arms wrap around his neck. She was on her tiptoes to reach him, in a position he'd only seen when she comforted Ripper outside of his brother's bedroom after the accident. He was stunned. He'd never done it before and wasn't sure what was right, no idea where to put his hands.

With a small laugh, she uncoiled her arm and reached down, grabbing his hand and guiding it to her waist. Which was just – well it would be pretty forward if she was a turian, but she wasn't. She was human, and it was easy to tell by the way that her thick hips filled out his palm. He was dressed down in his civvies, a rare occurrence while he cleaned the blood off his armor, and he could feel everything underneath his thin gloves. The way that her skin stretched when she breathed, the slight coarseness of her thick hair against his mandibles, the tips of her fingers settling in the spot behind his fringe.

She pulled back just enough and leaned in to plant a kiss on his mouth. He wasn't expecting it, and it didn't last very long, but it was still a kiss. No open mouth, not a slobbery mess. Soft, moist from the lip gloss she'd put on after dinner.

E pulled back from him and laced her fingers with his, somehow making them fit. She glanced down at them and rubbed a thumb over his knuckles and, still on her tiptoes, made a move to press her forehead to his. Not making eye contact, gaze still downcast, but a shy smile on her face.

Her fingers slipped from his and she separated their bodies, the cool night air crashing back down in a wild wave that left him stunned. He stared at her for a moment, unsure as to what to say, until she made a move to back towards the door.

“I thought you should know. My name, it's...it's Isa.”

He had no problem committing it to memory, seeing as how he used to be a cop.

“Garrus Vakarian.”

“Nice to meet you, Garrus.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Isa's moniker refers to the pronunciation of her name (ee-suh). It's a long "i", but I figured that it would get confusing if she used I as her initial. 
> 
> (If anyone is genuinely curious, her name means "rainbow" in Chamorro.)
> 
> * _the more you know_ track plays*


	23. Catalyst

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The beginning of the end.

The thing about humans was that they were confusing.

Very. Fucking. Confusing.

Garrus was positive that Isa had no idea what she was doing the night of their celebration, which was the last time he'd seen her in the past week. She hadn't bothered to contact him through messages on her omnitool, either. He replayed the scene in his head that night, mulled over it while he tried to get some sleep, and his head was still reeling when he prepared himself for the morning ahead. He had some minor things to take care of, one-man missions mostly, and had been letting the others take turns. Which gave him a lot of time to really sit down and dissect her course of action.

To turians, touching foreheads was...incredibly intimate. It showed the ultimate sign of trust, something that was done in a setting other than friends celebrating a well-earned victory. It was between lovers. Not just those who had a few more-than-friendly encounters once in a while, but a person who was reliable, dependable, almost like the 'other half' that humans babbled on about. It was less about being sexual and more about conveying emotion through action. Showing a moment of weakness, comparable to an animal baring its throat when in submission, although a bit more...complex. Just thinking about trying to explain its meaning to her made his stomach clench in discomfort.

He knew that Isa was one of his closest friends, and she saw him the same way. But if she was conscious of what she had done, that very turian gesture coupled with the human equivalent of a tender kiss...then what...?

The worst part was, he felt so awkward about it. He wanted to clear the air, but he didn't want to bring up the subject. He wasn't sure how he would go about it. If he did assume correctly, and what she did was intentional, how the hell was he going to let her down? She was a human and he was a turian, he just didn't...he didn't feel that way. And if she was just trying to get close to him, and it really was her own version of a thank-you and nothing more, he'd look like a complete jackass for making it more than it really was.

So all in all, he was fucked.

It didn't help that she seemed to be avoiding him. She was probably embarrassed. Or maybe she was just really busy at the bar. Whatever the case, he was too big of a coward to seek her out, and she was much too shy to do the same, so they were stuck here in this strange limbo with so many unanswered questions.

“Can't believe how slow things are,” Butler sighed wistfully. “Ever since taking out that slaver, and picking off those gang leaders, it's been so quiet. Not much left for us to do. Sure you don't want to just run with the credits we've got?”

“No, we keep pushing.” Garrus shifted in his seat, addressing the sudden tension in the room. “We didn't do this for the money. It was for what was right. And I've already given you plenty of opportunity to leave, so long as you're not trying to take your share of the credits. What we've earned so far is for the people, not to squander away for ourselves.”

Melenis looked down into the bottom of his cup. “I get you, Archangel. We all do. It's just been a long ride, and I'm the newest one here. If you want to keep going, stretching the boundaries, we will.”

That night, during the first restful sleep he'd gotten in days, his comm crackled and jolted him from his blurry dreams.

“The Blood Pack's top representatives are meeting in Kenzo District. I just received confirmation through some radio interference. Remember that gun running operation that your girl heard them bragging about? It's happening right now. I'm hiding out in range in case their plans change, but you need to get your ass down there.”

He tried to wake himself up, blinking rapidly at the ceiling. “Got it. Should I bring anyone with me?”

“No, it...it'll be fine. They won't expect you. They've mentioned some flammable materials in the warehouse which should make for an easy cleanup. When you get here, I'll have your back.”

“Nice one, Sidonis. I'll grab my gear. Send me the navpoint.”

His rifle, something he treasured, was now an uncomfortable weight on his back. Only because it reminded him of Isa, and how she'd encouraged him to get something for himself. Pieces of the puzzle fell into place and he found himself scrutinizing every action she'd taken in the past. When she had snatched up the voucher, did she purposefully hand it to him as a roundabout way to get him the gun? In turian culture, guns were often a courting gift, seeing as how their military was so important to them. It was a symbol of service and dedication toward the recipient. Had she thought about trying to get him to see how she felt, or was it simply an equipment donation like she claimed?

The streets were quiet, nothing but a few late night stragglers lurking about. No one bothered to tail him, most of them merely eying him while he walked past. Maybe they learned a little bit in light of recent events. He liked to see himself as an intimidating source of order, the kind of person that struck uneasiness in criminals' hearts.

The navpoint was at a warehouse, but even from a distance, Garrus felt as though he had the wrong place. The Blood Pack, who he had multiple run-ins with in the past, always had at least ten or fifteen vorcha footsoldiers and a couple krogan flanking them. If the leaders were here, he would've seen a handful of the lesser ranked officers standing guard outside or doing some patrols nearby. Vorcha in particular hated to stand idle, and when put in charge, they tended to roam and find something else to busy themselves.

He approached with caution. If the gang members knew that they held explosive material inside, they might have changed their game plan a little to avoid Archangel and his crew. Too bad he still got a tip anyway.

The closer he came to the building, the more suspicious he became. He couldn't hear hissing, prattling, scratching. There was no unmistakable smell of sewer water that the vorcha tended to carry around, no garbled coughing and shrieks piercing the air. He waited a few more minutes before coming closer to the perimeter, looking through his scope. He saw no bodies, no wandering figures, not even at the back entrance.

He headed down from his perch and slipped into the shadows, making his way to the front door. No noise from inside. Where the hell was everyone, in the middle of the building, gathered around the guns?

The door opened with no problem, no hacking required. They left the door unlocked after them? Now that was even harder to believe. While krogans weren't exactly experts with tech, the distinct lack of able bodies guarding the door and a lack of a proper security system only made the picture all the stranger.

Inside it was empty.

No Blood Pack. No krogan, no vorcha. No gun running operation.

He traversed through the halls, quiet on his feet. It didn't matter; the place was deserted. It looked like it hadn't been inhabited in years. He brought his omnitool to life and checked the coordinates, but his own marker said he was on point. What the hell?

He tried to get into contact with Sidonis, but his comm was on the fritz. He needed to get back to base and try there, seeing as how he knew that wherever the other turian was, with this bad reception, Garrus could at least ping him from back home and then find out what the hell had happened.

He was tired, baffled, and needed to find his partner. So he turned heel after one more sweep and took a shortcut back to base, no longer afraid of running into any soldiers around.

The walk seemed longer than usual, only because he wasn't sure why things hadn't worked out. By this time he expected himself to have painted the walls with gang blood. Instead, he was dragging his ass back to base with nothing to show for it. A few people watched him go past but said nothing, too enraptured in taking a quick smoke break outside or catching up with...friends at three in the morning.

He rounded the corner to access the base, and was rewarded with a blast that knocked him backwards and straight on his ass.

The ringing in his head reverberated through his plates, his systems attempting to realign while his equilibrium was thrown off. All he knew was that he could taste the gritty concrete and his armor ground onto the hard surface, his shoulder twisted from the way he landed. He could smell and taste smoke, fire. His helmet filter couldn't purge all of the dust and he choked on it, his throat closing from the small bits of debris. He rolled over onto his stomach, his back throbbing, his arm stinging, and lifted his head just enough to see a missile headed straight for one of the top floor windows.

Massive blades whirred overhead and a gunship swept by, unloading explosives, a rain of bullets striking the building from all sides, shattering windows. He heard the war cries of soldiers, men who he didn't recognize, and felt a piercing pain in his abdomen. He managed to squirm enough until he swiped a hand across his middle and when he pulled it back, there was blood. The sight of it pumped more adrenaline into his system. His senses were awake, aware.

He realized that he saw the colors of gang flags waved in front of his very eyes. Blood Pack, Blue Suns, Eclipse, a myriad of recruits who threw their lives away for their own sick cause. Troopers fired their guns after shouting orders at each other. Each one tried to tear down the lives of every single man he'd seen just a few hours earlier.

He tried to call out, to scream, to reach out toward them, but all he managed was a sick, wet cough. His tongue went numb. The barricades on the other side of the bridge were fortified and snipers positioned, timing their shots and slipping in fresh heat sinks. The whir of LOKI mechs while they warned their targets of their demise, limbs squeaking while they aimed and shot without remorse.

There was no sound of fire from his end, no one defending themselves.

That meant that they were, they were all...

No.

Rousing himself up, the medigel dispenser in his suit at work, he slung the rifle from his back and into his arms. Stormed into his base, seeing red, firing off every clip he had with him. Bodies dropped on the other side. He struck the blade of the gunship and it soared away with smoke trailing after it in an opaque cloud. He heard panicked yells and muffled orders but continued to shoot, reload, repeat. Well-oiled and mechanical, with nothing but a calm fury to guide him. He wasted every single soldier that opposed him until there was nothing left.

When there was no more opposition, and an eerie calm settled in the base, the tangy smell of blood hitting his nasal ridges, he tore off his helmet and threw up. Right underneath the window he was posted at, nearly slipping in it when he stood up. He would clean it up later, apologize for leaving it, but there were other things he needed to do. Survivors, stabilizing them all – where were they? Why hadn't they joined him? He wanted answers and couldn't think straight, not with the nausea assaulting his senses from the overwhelming odor of burned flesh and gun oil permeating the air.

He staggered toward the main hallway and found a body.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> can you feel the angst tonight


	24. Ten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The galaxy had a habit of taking and taking until there was nothing left.

Singed salt and pepper hair. Wrinkles on the side of his untouched face. A single grey eye open and lifeless.

_Erash._

The shimmer of a tactical cloak while it flickered and died. He was on his side, dressed in the undershirt that he seemed to favor. Arms reaching, but not quite touching, the Viper rifle he came to adore.

_Monteague._

A half-set charge in his hand, other one missing. Blown clean off. If he had a choice, it was how he would've wanted to go – in the middle of an explosion. An accepting smile was on his lips, the familiar green hue of his scales now dulled to a sick brown.

_Mierin._

Away from the others, secluded. No doubt in his own world, his omnitool pulled up and a data cache stuck in an endless scroll with no command. Both sets of eyes were closed, facial muscles lax, the most tranquil he'd ever seen the batarian.

_Grundan Krul._

Garrus shook his head and made his way up the stairs, toward the bedrooms. Followed the blood trail.

The familiar C-Sec patch emblazoned on the back of his armor, fringe chipped and torn off from one or more of the missiles. He took it full force, in front of the window, the massive pool of blood underneath him already coagulating.

_Melenis._

A steady breath. Grunting. The green-eyed turian was still fucking _alive._

He sputtered. “Ripper! Hold on! I've got medigel!” He dropped to his knees and went to inspect the damage. Shit. He was sure one, if not both, of his legs were broken. There was a huge crack in his armor, blood seeping through and staining Garrus' hands. He tried not to dwell on it, creating a mental tab of every laceration that encircled Ripper's body.

“Don't bother.” Ripper shifted and winced, his mandibles inching toward his chin. “Most of my suit's systems are fried, but I've got a nice little HUD givin' me the damage to my spine and heart. Not lookin' good, unless Sensat's still around.”

“I can check. I'll go downstairs.” He made a move to leave, but Ripper stopped him with a deliberate grab toward his hand.

He never touched anyone willingly but Isa.

“Listen, man...” Ripper paused and held back the wracking cough that threatened to interrupt his speech. Blood still speckled his armor from when he spoke. “You need to know somethin' important. Your visor records shit, right? Start it up.”

Garrus input the command and stared down, heart hammering in his chest. He was right; the vitals spread across his own display showed how erratic his heart rate was. But Ripper was a tough bastard, and he wasn't to let himself die until he made his spiel known. Every ounce of willpower he had left was dedicated to his confession, and if his last wish was to have it marked for the record, then he would do it.

“Do you remember when...I went to the bar and got plastered? Because I thought E was flirting with another guy? I...I got pissed off when you accused me of having feelings for her. It...it wasn't a lie. I didn't...I don't... _like_ her. I..”

He let out a strangled laugh, pain written on his face and all over his subvocals. As obnoxious as always, and it brought a smile to Garrus' face. Even now he wasn't able to control himself, putting everything on the line. Although this time it felt...purposeful. As if Ripper understood that he didn't have time to dance around the bush, or so humans said.

“I _love_ her. I've never felt that way about...shit, anyone. When she showed up, I thought she was a big fuckin' joke. Then Weav went on about her, you were there. I watched her more, tried to get to know her, and it drove me fuckin' crazy because she was everything I thought I hated in women.

“I only kissed her the one time. Before I really knew how I felt. Cornered her outside of the bar and tried to get her to come home with me. She saw right through me, totally unimpressed. Remember the bullshit I said? A hot bitch or an ugly saint, some crap like that? I really believed it. But I was fuckin' blind and learned that it didn't even matter, 'cuz all of the things I thought I liked was just so goddamn shallow and worthless. I guess that's when things changed, once she rejected me. I couldn't believe it. Here I was, practically throwin' myself at someone who wasn't even the type I went for, and she gave me a big fat no without a flinch in her face.

“But things got more intense. She came around a lot, and I realized how much I cared. It was...fucking terrifying. All this time I'd been going around and picking up ladies I didn't give a shit about. Told myself she wasn't my type, but every time I saw her, it drove me nuts. I couldn't get her outta my head, Weav's words just rollin' around and sticking.

“I got a little...forward there, and finally told her. Around the time that Weav got hurt from the Blood Pack. I couldn't put everything out there, too proud I guess. Asked her out. Not just for sex, for the serious stuff – you know, be her boyfriend. Take her places, spend time together. She turned me down though, said she wasn't looking for a relationship. Because of her brother and all the bullshit with trying to make ends meet.

“At first I was pissed off. Didn't want anything to do with her, and I was so _angry_. But the more I thought about it, the more it made sense. If I was in her position, I sure as fuck would have more things to deal with than a horny turian tryin' to knock down my door. She...she was more mature than me. I just thought that, if we were together, then...I dunno, man. So I kept my distance. Still tried to let her know I was interested, but at the same time, I was still really pissed at knowing she was right about not jumping into things. Think about it: I was a goddamn vigilante. How could I promise I would be alive the next day?

“The day that you sent me with her to Zen District, I told her I could wait. Wait until things were settled, when she was ready. I told her that I wanted to be with her and I wouldn't give up. I promised her. Once our cleanup was done, I was going to...use the credits me and Weav saved...set up an orphanage, or a school. Me and her could run it together. Give these street kids a home. Have us a family. You know what she did? She just...smiled at me, and said that if I still felt the same way when the time came, she'd do it. I don't think she believed me, but damn it, every word I said was the truth.

“S'why I was so mad when I found out about the slavers. Here I was, thinking about building a life with this chick, and I couldn't even protect her from somethin' like that. Unbelievable. Another reason for me to be jealous of you, I guess. Arch-fucking-angel, savior of the damned, this hero who managed to sweep her off her feet. Still. Kept my cool and thought about the future, possibilities. Planned to work on my attitude a little so I could be half as patient as her, make changes I knew she needed from me. Looks like that was cut short with...this.”

Ripper's eyes were always expressive, it was one of the many things that made him seem so human. There was a dreamlike quality there, flashes of a life he'd fantasized about. He snapped out of his reverie once he winced and his wounds acted up, so he continued.

“In my stash, underneath my cot, there's a lockbox. It's got my...parents' colony emblems. Only thing I ever salvaged from what was left of them back when I was a kid. Do me a favor, Archangel. Give 'em to her. And you tell her what that means to a turian. She needs to know how much she means to me. How I'd do anything for her. I'm not good with words, at least not when she was around since she frustrated the hell outta me.

“Dammit...” He paused and sucked in a shaky breath. “This wasn't how I wanted to go. I had plans. We were gonna be happy. She's the only person I'd ever settle down for. I'll never get to say it to her face because I was too much of a coward!”

Garrus watched Ripper's eyes squeeze shut, the life force dwindling. His words were heavy. Genuine, raw. He stripped any layer of his macho persona and laid it bare for him to see.

The silence settled and he felt obligated to break it, voice soft. “Ripper, before you go, I want you to know my real name. It's Garrus.”

The other turian's mandibles spread in a lazy smile, brow plates perking. He'd never seemed so relaxed and at peace before, seeing as how he always seemed to be brimming and teeming with pent-up aggression. “Garrus, huh? That's stupid as _fuck_.”

Both of them laughed at that. For the first time they were on the same page.

“What about E?”

They made eye contact. “Isa,” Garrus choked out.

Ripper hummed, thrumming with pleasure. No more fronts. The affection was deep, intimate feelings threaded into his words. “Isa...mm...yeah, now that's good. Much better. I hope she don't hate me too much for bailing on my proposal.”

He swallowed. “Good thing you weren't here, Garrus. One of us had to survive to take care of her. If it was anyone, I'd want it to be you, as sappy as that sounds. And one more favor, yeah? Find my brother. If he's still alive, let him know that I said we've got a nice reunion planned. If he's dead, well...I'll tell him myself.”

Garrus picked himself up once the other turian stilled and left the room.

_Ripper._

In the lower levels, the garage, he saw a body strung haphazardly over one of the fortification made of crates. Mouth ajar, bullet holes riddling civvies, no more endless enthusiasm and the strange twang to his voice.

_Sensat._

The krogan took the worst hit. Garrus tried to talk to him, to see what the damage was, but his secondary nervous system already failed. He swore to the still-warm corpse that he would slaughter the cowards who did this.

_Vortash._

His orange armor was shattered, limbs exposed and bone peering through. A mangled mess, the visor to his helmet cracked straight down the middle. One of his gloves was off and in his clenched hand was his wedding ring.

_Butler._

Seven feet of human, a hole in his gut and gasping for air. Garrus murmured the words that Ripper gave him, and a smile split across his face. He whispered a thank you and curled up into a ball, drawing his knees up to his chest, arms wrapped around the wound as if the pressure would stop him from bleeding out. Garrus stayed with him the whole eighteen minutes it took for him to finally let go.

_Weaver._

He couldn't find the body. It must have been obliterated in the crossfire, as there were spots of ash littered across the building. He searched, he growled in frustration, trying to turn over furniture to find a trace. There was none. Maybe it was better he didn't see it, nothing to give him a graphic image of the person he'd been with since the beginning. He marked it anyway.

_Sidonis._

He finished carving the names into the frame of his visor. Each one committed to memory, a bitter reminder of who he failed. Who he lost.

His friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My favorite part about this is Ripper's ten minute rant. He's like, 'fuck dude i'm gonna die so lemme just go on this spiel real quick'. I know it's fucked up, but honestly? He would do something like that.


	25. Traitor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tick tock, Garrus.

 It took him hours to drag the bodies to the incinerator in the garage.

Vortash was the worst. An eight hundred pound krogan was not an easy task. At least he had the decency to die close enough to a lift. There was no time for a proper service or even to consider burials. Not when Garrus was positive that the mercs would return. Why wouldn't they? They hadn't killed Archangel, just his ragtag group of ruffians that ran with him. They weeded out what they thought were the lesser members, and wanted to ensure he died by pinning him here, in his base, by sending reinforcements. It didn't help that he gave them the message he was still alive, and here, after taking down that gunship.

That fucking gunship. A bright blue sun painted on its side, a blazing emblem of destruction. It was obvious who was in charge of that heavy duty piece of machinery.

He knew that he got under Tarak's skin after he almost killed him, but he never thought that the mercs would ally together. The gangs joining forces was the last thing he ever expected; it was why his squad could run around and cause so much trouble for each individual operation. They would have never allied under normal circumstances. Now it seemed that Garrus pushing his squad and getting rid of their top commanders and leaders made it apparent that they were no longer in the mood to play nice.

With the remains taken care of, he had time to go through his plan of action. The mercs only had one way to get to the base, which was the bridge to the other side of the district. It was where he'd seen their signs of fortification when he picked off the rest of the stragglers who'd remained from the initial assault. He had enough rations to last weeks. The rest of the squad's ammo was around, and he was thankful it was universal so he didn't have to scrounge for a specific type.

He grabbed his travel bag and combed through all of the rooms, shoving everything he needed. Stims, food rations, heat sinks. He wouldn't be able to sleep much. Krul's systems were fried for the most part when he checked them, the initial line of defense on the fritz. No doubt the Eclipse's work considering their own tech expertise. But he was determined to at least get some of the turrets working again, maybe a few mechs that the batarian had programmed. Anything to buy him some time.

It was a good thing that turians didn't need much sleep. Just quick bursts that gave him enough energy to go on. Once he had all of his supplies on the second floor, at his feet, and he knew that the building was as protected as it could be, he set up his rifle and closed his eyes.

Just for a minute.

But no rest yet, because the scrambled thoughts in his head wouldn't stop flashing before his eyes, images and words jumbling together in an incoherent mess.

How did they find the base?

Why was the Blood Pack operation deserted?

Where was Sidonis' body?

Why were the Blue Suns put in charge of the attack?

(Blue Suns. Isa. Her brother.)

Did she sell them out?

Why wait almost two years?

Was it an act all from the beginning?

(Vortash called her manipulative.)

Why would she tell him her real name?

How much of it was a set up?

(Kron's death wasn't fake, it validated her original story.)

How much time did he have?

The sound of distant gunfire broke him from his light nap and he focused, aimed down the sights, and took the shot.

(Not much at all.)

Time trickled on. When scanning the perimeter for movement and little else, the hours were eaten away slowly. He felt himself age, alert but still confused as hell, not letting the stress of the situation get to him this early on in the game. He'd last. Oh, he'd stay here until the food ran out, until the water was gone, until every last one of the gang members was lying face down in a pool of their own blood.

If she had sold him out, how did she do it? The Blue Suns were out for his head on a pike. They could have made an order for a bounty. Made sense. The credits for his death would have gotten her off this station, maybe enough so that she could find a nice house on a distant colony for her parents. She could convince her brother to leave with her, but only if she indulged in a bit of information. A location whispered into his ear when he listened and relayed her tip to his superiors.

A few calls made between the gang leaders, tentative in letting their guard down enough for an attack. She would smile, in that shy way of hers, and say she would make a call. She'd get Sidonis on the comm first, because Garrus was sleeping and didn't hear the ping of her message; she knew he hadn't been doing too well these nights. She'd make up a story about the Blood Pack and send Sidonis downtown on his own, moments before Sidonis relayed the information to him. By the time Garrus got to the gun running ruse, they would have killed Sidonis and dragged his body out of there, making him pay for his crimes. Hung him up to dry and taken turns beating him until he finally gave up.

Then Isa would give Tarak everything he wanted, pointing out the blind spots and layout of the base so he knew where to aim his missiles. She might have cried when she did it, ashamed, but knowing her future would've been secure with the matter resolved. No more krogan slaver on her back, what were a few deaths on her conscious to make sure that she had a one-way ticket off this station? No more long nights at _Afterlife_ avoiding the murderous batarians, the impolite turians, the handsy humans, the unbearable krogan and vorcha, the bitchy asari. The life she wanted, one she needed, all within arm's reach.

Perfect.

He took another nap. Woke up disoriented and fired off a headshot that stopped the infiltrator from trying to get a decent perch on the other building.

Garrus had known her for a long time. She was around when all he had was a few followers and a shitty house of operations. He'd gotten to know her; she wasn't just a simple informant. She trusted him with her name, something that no one seemed to know aside from the childhood nickname her brother used. She knew that he was worth it because he was here to stay. She fed him information that helped him take down so many people, always willing to message him even when she knew it was a crapshoot. She never led him into a situation without trying to get him to see the whole picture, stressing how important it was that she could be wrong. She patched up his wounds, she trusted him to house her when her brother was off station. She'd kissed him and touched her forehead to hers, linked their hands together, hugged him even after Ripper had practically pledged his life to her.

It couldn't have been. Even if her brother found out, she stressed that he wasn't a bad person. Her brother had never been present in any of the big boss meetings they'd interrupted. He was doing small work and nothing more, a grunt in that respect. He wasn't the one interested in drug dealings and weaponry smuggling. He was a bodyguard, little more than a common thug. Not someone who would bend her arm into selling out people who had done good. He hadn't murdered innocents – the only reason why he even got the initiation in the first place was due to armor he stole from killing a _slaver_. Which was confirmed from not only the datapad, but the information cache he found in Kron Harga's hideout.

Even if they had thrown her into befriending Garrus and his crew since the very fucking beginning, she had ample time to destroy them when they were still deciding what district they wanted to hit next. Back when their numbers were few and their strategies not as sound, she could have sold them out. But she didn't. Not when they were vulnerable and still gaining their bearings, so why would she have waited, if she was planted? What would the point be in building that much trust between the two of them?

Maybe the Blue Suns knew about her run-in with Harga. Maybe they used Garrus and his team to get rid of the slaver, so another one of their divisions could take over the power vacuum he left. Maybe they promised her credits and freedom, as long as someone took care of the krogan, and it didn't implicate them.

It felt wrong to even _think_ that, but the link was clear. The Blue Suns had ordered the attack on the base. How they found it was a mystery. Isa's brother was with them, so surely she would have been aware of any kind of assault, even with how low he was in the chain of command. Wouldn't she?

But it all seemed so impulsive. The gangs had joined forces and gunned down his squad on a whim, leaving their troopers to clean up the mess without thinking. Even now, with their gunship all but mangled, they tried to regroup and come up with a better tactic than storming his base. He knew this, because the numbers had slowed a bit in the past couple of days, less soldiers with all shades of affiliated armor daring to set foot on the bridge.

He was missing something. As a C-Sec officer, his superiors would have been furious.

Step back, Garrus. Look at the big picture: the answer is staring you right in the face.

_How did the Blue Suns find the base?_

Someone tipped them off.

_How did they accomplish the assault?_

They led me away; I was in charge of this squad. I wasn't here to catch on and command the team.

_Why weren't you here?_

Sidonis called me about a gun running operation that Isa told me about.

_Did you make it to the navpoint?_

Yes, but it was deserted. I checked the coordinates, I was in the right place.

_Why was the building empty?_

There was no operation there; it was a distraction to lure me away from the base.

_Who lured you away?_

Sidonis. He called me on the comm in the middle of the night.

_Why did you go alone?_

He said that I should come without backup.

_Why?_

Because he and I would take care of it.

_How did Sidonis know about the operation?_

He said he intercepted a transmission in the area.

_Did you try to call him at the location?_

Yes, but the...the reception was bad, I couldn't get through.

_If the comms were offline because of interference, how did he receive the transmission in the first place? How did he contact you?_

_He tried to remind you of a tip about the gun running business that 'your girl' gave him._

_Why didn't he refer to Isa by her nickname?_

_Where is Sidonis?_

_Why isn't his body at the base, in the incinerator, with the others?_

_How did the Blue Suns know where the base was?_

_Where is Sidonis?_

_Why did they know where to aim the gunship's missiles?_

_Where is Sidonis?_

He tore open a ration pack with his teeth. Squeezed the tube into his mouth and swallowed, letting the thick, curdled strand of meat settle uncomfortably in his stomach. He was so blind, a fucking moron. The sudden call, the way he'd abandoned them all without so much as a heads-up of where he was planning to go. Not thinking twice about putting his trust in Sidonis who was out scouting in the middle of the fucking night. The other turian should have been in bed, but he wasn't, because his rounds in Blue Suns territory went horribly wrong.

Your girl? Why did he say that? Why not come out and say E?

Because it implicated an outside party, an informant. Sidonis protected her. Or they already knew who she was.

He would have slipped up. If they caught him, and coerced him, she would have shown up to confirm it was him that they needed to drill for information. Someone there would have seen her enter the room and referred to her by her given name. Sidonis would have called and said that Isa mentioned the operation; it would've shown that they were working together.

That wasn't it. She couldn't have been the one. If she squealed, they wouldn't have needed Sidonis in the first place. Not to lure him out there in the middle of nowhere. They could have just used Isa to message Garrus. She would have encouraged him to head out alone too, if she was working with them and setting up a trap; the urgency in her voice would have overcome any reason. He wouldn't have wanted to bring anyone along and risk gossip being spread around the base from their...moment at the party. Whatever it was.

He hadn't heard from her in a while. He chalked it up to embarrassment before, but what if they had gotten her too?

No, no, it didn't fit. They didn't need her and Sidonis. Just one.

One to sell them all out.

Garrus couldn't believe it. The man he started the vigilante gang with, the man who he saved from a krogan beating his face in at _Afterlife,_ the man who he'd shared meals with, watched over and covered from live fire, the man who'd spoken of justice and righteousness, had sold him out to the very gangs they'd slaughtered over the past two years.

He ripped the visor off his head and readied a nearby lighter, pressing the hovering, flickering flame to the last name on the list.

Traitor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey nerds so from this point it's obviously going to get more me2 centric, with a serious focus on garrus & e. 
> 
> so if you're not interested in that, thanks for reading!


	26. Reunion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Space was cold and dark. Unforgiving. Why did he deserve the second chance?

In all his experiences with the people of Omega referring to him as their guardian angel, contributing to his proud moniker, Garrus never thought that he would catch a break from a ghost.

Stims rushing through his veins, his rations all but gone, the last batch of heat sinks he'd managed to find rolled under the furniture. He put his eye to the scope and caught sight of the armor insignia that sent him reeling back in time to better days. Days when he was a mere hitchhiker on one of the most revolutionary ships for the Alliance Navy, chasing down rogue Spectres and learning about his mistakes as a hotheaded officer. He swallowed and followed the body with his scope and, on the comm with his father to give his last regrets, suddenly felt his hopes come back full force.

“I'll come home when I can, Dad. The odds just got a lot better.”

The body paused near one of the fortification points. Garrus blinked and fired a concussive round as an experiment, watching as the shields dropped. The figure looked over to the balcony but made no move to retaliate, and continued on its way, the N7 logo as burned into his memory as ever.

Commander Shepard.

Alive.

“Sure is nice to see a friendly face,” he heard himself saying.

He told Shepard about it all. The betrayal. Antagonizing the merc leaders. How they banded together. His tactic in killing them off. He didn't mention how he wished he could have warned the freelancers not to run headfirst to their own death, but he was sure that Shepard understood. Because that's how his old commander was; rational and reasonable with just enough patience and diplomacy to resolve issues that others would have failed ten times over. Including him.

Garrus got himself into this mess. He wanted to make Omega a better place. He ensnared a good number of other men for his cause and, because of his own stupidity, got them all slaughtered in the name of justice. Brought down like animals, every last one of them, with nothing to show for it but a perch on the base where he could try to avenge their deaths with his jamming Mantis. The ones who had families...he would never be able to express how guilty felt for taking them away from the ones they loved.

Shepard was a force to be reckoned with. Shotgun in hand, ordering one of her new recruits to stick with him. To watch his back. The salarian didn't introduce himself, but Garrus thought he looked vaguely familiar. Through the crossfire, he decided to ask.

“Where did you come from?”

“Had clinic here on Omega. Was overrun with biologically engineered weapon, swept as a plague over district residents. Shepard helped disperse cure, agreed to lend services. Important. Dire mission. Will no doubt give you details when this conflict resolved.”

His stomach clenched. He'd been so wrapped up in staying alive for the past few days that he hadn't heard anything from outside the compound. “You're the salarian with the clinic in Gozu District?”

“Correct. Reputation precedes me, good, good. Was hoping word got around about services provided.”

“And you said that there was a plague? How bad was it?”

The salarian's upbeat expression waned. “Far too many to count. Body cleanup ongoing. Concern inflections in lower range of vocals suggests personal interest. Work done here as protector shows symptoms of empathy toward Omega residents. Pity for deceased? No, no, repetition of facts indicates disbelief. Perhaps. Have to ask, friend of yours lived in the district?”

Garrus hesitated and fired off another shot, the weariness settling in his shoulders. “Yes, a human girl.”

“Ah, then perhaps distress unnecessary. Humans unaffected by plague, many residents evacuated by Blue Suns before Blood Pack invasion. Could ask assistant for identification of any human bodies found, for your benefit.”

The thought of her gone, with all of the others, and the promise he made Ripper...it made him feel a little sick. “Yeah, I would – I would appreciate that. She's probably fine.” He just hadn't heard from her in a few days.

They exchanged information and the salarian dropped his name. Garrus reciprocated, and felt a bit stunned at how easy it happened between the two of them. He'd almost forgotten how something so simple was avoided while working here on the station. The only people he'd ever told was the two survivors of his squad, Sidonis, and her. He would have to get used to being more open if they got out of this alive.

Shields fried. Bullets digging into his plates. A nasty wound in his back and stomach that wouldn't stop bleeding. He crawled through it and tried to move out of the line of fire, but passed out. Darkness at first, then images of his squad. The way that they were when he found them, corpses and nothing more. The pleading in Ripper's voice. The forced peace on Weaver's face. Closing the door to the incinerator and watching them burn, Butler's wedding ring gripped in his hand as he promised himself he'd return it. Never forget, he told himself, and if he did, his visor would remind him. A mantra spelled out in an endless loop that ran across his lids: ErashMonteagueMierinGrundanKrulMelanisRipperSensatVortashButlerWeaver. But the last burned and died underneath the flame because it was unworthy of recognition, a spit in the face, acid in his eyes, a dig so deep that he jerked awake with a sharp gasp.

At least his face matched how he felt.

Barely holding it together. A mesh of regret and dumb luck embedded into the new skin weave. Another reminder of his failure, stitched together so he could right the wrongs of his crew.

He would find Sidonis. No doubt Shepard would help him.

First he needed to get settled in on the _Normandy,_ make himself useful and aid his old commander in any way he could. He unpacked what precious little he had and swore to himself. He had to get into contact with Butler's wife and inform her of what happened. Attach the wedding ring as...all that was left. He wasn't sure if she was one of those humans who needed a corpse for the truth to sink in, but he had nothing of the sort to give her. Just a trinket he knew that would make it all real for her instead of blatant denial.

Her business finished on Omega, Shepard departed from the station. Garrus had no idea where their next destination was, but he managed to fill out a package form so he could send the keepsake before they went back into orbit. It was the least he could do, and the crew would make sure that it was received by its rightful owner. The Illusive Man's credits seemed to be worth something after all.

* * *

 

Mordin sent him a message a few cycles later and said that he hadn't found Isa's body. Garrus wasn't sure whether to be relieved or worried. If she wasn't among the plague victims, where was she? Had she been caught and killed by one of the gangs after trying to come back to the base? Did she know that he survived and that he was off the station?

He tried to get into contact via omnitool, but received nothing in return. That mere fact alone made him queasy all over again.

He settled in the battery with his food, mulling over some of the cannon's firing algorithms. The situation was a lot to take in; the infamous, elusive Collectors kidnapping and attacking heavily populated human colonies, the shackled AI running the new ship, the all-human crew whose reputation suggested extreme xenophobia, Shepard back from the dead. The woman's scars were fading, just starting to heal, while Garrus' own cybernetic work was still fresh and tender, the eerie blue glow peering from underneath his facial plates. He had to get used to changing his medical bandage, peeling the blood soaked fabric away and replacing it every day. His colony markings were jagged and uneven, the harsh, bright lights of the ship doing nothing for him when he managed to catch a glimpse of himself in the mirror. At least all this new work made his eyes pop, a thought that made him laugh.

_“I think bright blue eyes speaks volumes across any species,”_ Isa had said. He'd never thought about it much before. No doubt she would approve of his new look, then.

Shepard entered, making her daily rounds with the crew. “How you holding up, Garrus?”

“As much as I can, considering,” he replied good naturedly. “So what's the plan?”

“We caught a break on one of the human colonies, and the Illusive Man's busting my balls about getting down there right away. Charging into some action instead of sitting around and waiting for the Council to agree to disagree is a big change.” Shepard laughed. “Anyway, if you're up for it, I could use you on my ground team. I sure would love to see how Archangel got his name.”

Garrus shook his head. “I'll never live it down, will I?”

“It does have a way of sticking, doesn't it?” Shepard went silent for a moment. “You know, when I was first...brought back, I saw Tali. She's made quite a name for herself on the flotilla. Believe it or not, she was leading her own team. Guess it's sort of weird to think about it. Feels like just yesterday she was enamored with the drive core and gushing to me about giving her the geth intel for her Pilgrimage. Then she's elected leader for an extraction mission.”

“A lot has happened in two years,” the turian admitted. “We're more or less the same. Just with a few more experiences under our belt, I think. The circumstances have changed, sure, but you can count on it that I'm still a hell of a shot.”

“Now _that_ I can believe,” Shepard snickered. “Anyway, we'll be busy this week, I think. And if you ever need to chat, let Yeoman Chambers know so we can set something up. No use in neglecting my old crew for these new strangers.”

“Favoritism, Shepard? Didn't think you were the type.”

“I have a soft spot for old soldiers who can take a rocket to the face and get right back up like it was nothing. Call it a weakness.” She picked herself up from the lean on the nearest wall. “Get some sleep, Garrus. I have a feeling tomorrow is going to get a little outta control.”

Garrus watched his commander turn heel and finished the rest of his food. “With you, Shepard, it's a guarantee.”

The hum of the _Normandy_ was so different from the base back on Omega. He'd almost forgotten how to get comfortable enough to drift off. Although he had his squad back at the base, and the men watched his back, Garrus had always been on guard. Here, in the safety of space while they drifted through to the remote human colony, with no threat of a surprise attack from a reckless gang leader or drug addict, it was hard for him to get comfortable. He shut his eyes and turned, opened them back up to stare at the ceiling. Numbers marched across his vision, and he knew that the math was just something to get his mind off what happened.

If he was going to give Shepard his one hundred percent, he had to right the wrongs that Sidonis made. There was no way he'd be able to focus down the sights of his rifle while he protected human innocents when he still had fresh memories of his crew gunned down. He needed to grab hold of that slippery bastard, and in order to do that, he had to call in a few favors. Investigate.

Find a reliable, dependable source.

Too bad she wasn't answering her messages.

The last one he sent was still marked unread.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posting this fic made me replay ME2. I love that game so fucking much it's embarrassing.
> 
> Also, my Shep is...a total dork. I mean we see her in-game really badass and professional, but c'mon. She's gotta be different around friends.


	27. Drinks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A heart to heart with his commander. That was something he wouldn't get on a turian cruiser, he realized. He was an equal.

The colony on Horizon brought up a lot of thoughts. Mostly negative.

Looking around the prefab structures, empty and abandoned, with a few of the civilians left in stasis...it was horrifying to see. The Collectors had been here, and some of them were still loading hostages onto their ship. Garrus never thought that the race actually existed, let alone that he would find himself gunning them down while he ducked for cover. At least Shepard seemed to be having a blast with the dropped particle beam she found, gunning down droves of them with a wicked laugh of glee.

He always said his commander was a little crazy. She got results, though.

The entire time that they looked for survivors, argued with an obviously distressed mechanic, and slaughtered the aggressive, buglike lifeforms, Garrus thought back to what Isa said about her parents. How they lived on a cramped, overpopulated land in the middle of the goddamn ocean, waiting for her and her brother to find them salvation in a colony. This place was still expanding and getting into a safe routine. If she managed to get credits to her family, and put them on a remote colony outside of Council space, it was likely that the Collectors would have stricken there as one of their primary goals. Away from the watchful eyes of the Alliance, snatching up those who had hope in their future for a life they could build for themselves.

He really hoped she was still on Omega, a thought he never thought he'd have. If she was still stranded on that station, and her parents were on Earth, at least they'd be safe. For the time being.

It was quiet on the shuttle ride back home. Despite Shepard being in her element, directing Garrus and Grunt, leading them through to start the tower's defenses, everything ended on a sour note. At least Garrus got a chance to throw a few choice words back at Ashley. For all of her damning comments, she really had no clue as to how severe the situation was. Humans were just like turians, he affirmed. Some were downright stubborn.

Garrus received an invite a few hours after the mission; Shepard was busy trying to drown her sorrows in the observation lounge bar.

She poured herself a drink and asked what Garrus wanted. The turian was a bit confused at first, he thought that Shepard knew – but he realized that his memories were getting jumbled together. He only mentioned to Isa that his go-to drink for getting trashed was the FTL Slingshot. He wondered if she would've remembered, and felt silly for even questioning it. Of course she would have.

The observation deck was cozy, for the most part. An outstanding view of the stars in all their glory. He wasn't much of a romantic, but he could see how anyone could've liked this place. It was quiet, calm. The atmosphere was serene, what with the low lighting and the wide array of liquor bottles that would've made any alcoholic salivate. He hopped up on the stool next to Shepard and took a quick drink from the glass in her hands, the lights above catching light through the clear material and glinting.

“Sometimes I wonder if I made the right choice back on Virmire,” Shepard began, staring at the bottom of her cup. “Kaidan was a solid LT. He had my back too. Maybe if I'd turned around when he gave me the heads up about the geth reinforcements, I could've saved him instead. Let Ash be the one to take the hit; she was practically begging for the chance once we got there and talked with Kirrahe. I just figured that I was already halfway there, so it didn't make sense to turn heel when we had our momentum going. He was a good guy.”

“I don't think it was a choice between right or wrong.” Garrus snuck a glance at his commander, feeling a bit awkward in trying to comfort the woman who had boosted morale more times on this ship than he could count. “Someone had to die. Both were willing. It was just a tough call.”

Shepard shrugged. “I don't know, man. Ash has done a lot for herself, but she used to piss me off back on the SR-1. I'm not trying to bring up old problems, but I'm sure you knew how uncomfortable she felt that you, Tali and Wrex were there.

“Did you know that humanity spent literally over two millennia fighting about equality between our own people? Gender, sexual orientation, race, skin color, religion? We finally got our shit together around the time we made contact with the turians, and it was only out of fear. I realize that with that track record, we can't expect everyone to be on board with alien relations, but you'd think someone would catch on. We're different species, but we're all free-thinking, feeling beings. A little difference in biology shouldn't change that. Ash’s probably more open-minded now, but I doubt that deep-seated suspicion is just going to disappear in the span of two years. Not when her whole life her family spewed about the disgrace of surrender during the Relay 314 Incident. We've got our spot on the Council, and though I'm sure Anderson's been keeping the more conservative at bay, it's still bullshit knowing that a fine soldier could have such warped views on others.

“I get that I'm working with Cerberus. I know what kind of sick shit they did, myself included. Me walking around after being posted up on an operating table for two years isn't exactly natural. But if we need their resources to take down this big of a threat, how can I say no? Not when the Alliance, or the Council, is going to do jack shit about it. I guess I should be grateful that I'm still technically a Spectre, but it's not like that title really meant anything aside from pissing off a bunch of other non-council races.”

Garrus rolled the glass in his hands and inspected the amber color before trying to form a coherent response. “Well,” he drawled, “Ash is naïve. A lot of people are. Any species as a collective can act like idiots. It takes an individual to take a stand to make a difference.”

“Like you on Omega?” Shepard grinned at him. “I read some of the reports that Cerberus picked up on. Miranda seemed a bit put off that it was a turian doing so much to protect all of the residents there, humans included. But I figured you hadn't worked alone. What was your squad like?”

“They were great men. Turians, humans, salarian, krogan, batarian. Races from all across the galaxy with a singular purpose. Achieved, of course, by shooting a lot of guns.” He chuckled. “They were proud of what they did, but I can't dismiss the fact that it was under my watch that they were killed.”

Garrus didn't want Shepard to pry, as the woman wasn't exactly subtle, so he changed the subject. “So. You think of yourself as the opposite of a xenophobe, huh? It does look that way, what with your tryst on the SR-1. How is Dr. T'Soni these days?”

Shepard snorted into her cup and almost choked. “Haven't gotten a hold of her. But the new dossiers I got from TIM said that we've got business on Illium. Supposedly that's where she's working now. But two years is a long time. Maybe she hit the matron stage and popped out a couple of puppies by now.”

“Even if that was possible, I doubt she would've moved on that quickly.”

“Anyway, Liara will have to wait. We've got reports of Tali on some planet called Haestrom, deep in geth space. I don't know what that little quarian is trying to prove by putting herself in situations where there's such a high risk of mortality, but I plan to persuade her out of her suicide streak. Er, well, on her terms, anyway. I know charging at the Collectors isn't exactly a step down in terms of danger levels.” She slammed her cup on the counter and burped. “You know what sucks about cybernetic surgery? The amount of booze it takes for me to get hammered. I wanted to forget about this day, not sit here a little tipsy off straight vodka.”

Garrus looked at his own drink. “I think I know what you mean.”

“Look at us. Couple of zombie cyborgs. Maybe we can convince Tali to join the club once she gets on board. Then we _Normandy_ originals can all match.”

“Don't let Joker catch you saying that. I don't think he'll appreciate being left out.”

Shepard picked herself up from the bar, rolling her shoulders and neck. “I don't think we'll be able to find anything quite that dangerous for our flight lieutenant to put him in intensive care. Maybe I can convince him to put the ship through a couple of barrel rolls, and when he breaks his arm, Chakwas can sneak something in there. Until then...”

Shepard headed back to her private quarters with a mocking salute.

Garrus poured himself another glass and shut his eyes, wishing that his own vision would begin to swim. He felt the same way. Hearing the criticism from Ash made him realize how different things had been since Shepard died. He liked to think that he'd changed for the better, and not become as irritating as the Alliance marine, but it didn't feel like it. The deaths of his squad made him feel as naïve as ever, akin to the heavy berating he received from Shepard after they met in the clinic. Or the spiel that his commander gave after Dr. Saleon refused to turn himself in, and they had to kill him anyway. Those were moments that he referred to, ones that changed his perspective on things.

After draining his last cup, he headed back to the elevator. His body told him that he needed to sleep off the stressful mission they had, but he couldn't stop thinking about Omega. So he punched the number two button on the panel and headed to the science lab. Somehow he knew that Mordin would still be awake. A hopped up salarian seemed to need even less sleep than he did, and the new data he received from their exchange with the Collectors probably inspired him to run a lot more tests.

The doors opened and, sure enough, Mordin was scrolling through a datapad and typing in some information, taking readings off a strange looking device in front of him. Garrus lingered near the entrance, shifting his weight on one foot, then the other. He realized that Mordin was probably so engrossed he didn't hear him come in. He cleared his throat and strode across the room.

“Mordin, I--”

The salarian held up a finger. “One moment. Synthesizing. Trial. Hmm, another error! Most disconcerting. Will need to make further adjustments.” He set down the datapad and blinked. “Garrus. Surprised to see you down here. Expression and degree tilt of mandibles suggests you wish to speak about something important. Pertaining Omega, perhaps?”

He fumbled with his hands, suddenly feeling awkward. “Yes, I was wondering if you heard any news about Gozu District.”

“Assistant sends bi-weekly reports. Casualties, supply listings, concerns. Still needs advice occasionally despite flourishing at clinic. All dead accounted for, district surveyed and cleaned by Blue Sun officials. No record of friend on resident register. Apartment number you provided also emptied of all belongings and up for rent. As of right now, vacant. Meant to message you earlier but did not want to intrude with performance on mission.”

He felt himself deflate. “Oh.”

“Do have good news,” Mordin interjected before Garrus could turn and walk away. “Previous assistant hired new staff. Friend's name came up as one of several volunteers.” He tapped on his omnitool with impressive speed, bringing up a holoimage. “ID picture of woman matching name you provided. Same person?”

His breath hitched. It was Isa. He'd recognize those features anywhere. Her complexion was lighter, face clearer, new glasses, and her hairstyle was...different. But it was her.

“Yes,” he found himself saying, relief rushing out from his subvocals. If Mordin was a turian he'd feel a bit embarrassed at his lack of self-control, but opted to ignore that for now. “That's her. So she's safe.”

Mordin flashed him a smile. “Indeed. Always save best for last.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know a lot of the fandom tends to misunderstand and mischaracterize Ashley. I played ME1 a few weeks ago and found myself understanding her position a lot more than I did when writing this fic. 
> 
> Still, I always feel uncomfortable with the example she uses of the dog and bear because it feels to me like she's comparing other races to animals, which is just...I dunno, it really squicks me out. 
> 
> I definitely like her a lot more than I did when I first played the game, so I edited this a bit to reflect that.


	28. Distance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It had been so long since they'd seen each other.

How the hell Tali got herself into this situation, Garrus would never know.

The one thing that he admired about the quarian was also the one thing he despised about her. Her blatant loyalty to the fleet was charming in its own way, but the situation on Haestrom made him want to drill her as to why in the fuck she would accept that mission. She knew that coming to this (hellhole of a) planet (that kept frying his shields) that she was endangering her life. Despite all of the men dying along the way, she still tried to rationalize it. Oh, Tali understood that the cost of the information wasn't worth it, but her superiors had other ideas. They would willingly throw some of their best marines into the line of fire in a planet that was obviously crawling with geth.

When Garrus talked to Shepard about being a bad turian, this was exactly what he meant. When a good turian gets a bad order, he follows it. Garrus wouldn't have been able to swallow the same kind of treatment if he were in her place. It made him realize that hell, he would've made a bad quarian too, if the circumstances were any different. A vigilante quarian. Now that would be interesting to see.

At least his mind was in a better place this time. On Horizon he'd been mulling over a lack of news from Omega, wondering what happened to Isa. But after the news that Mordin gave him the other night, his head was clearer. She was alive. And safe. He wasn't sure what it was that inspired her to change her appearance so drastically. Maybe that was just what she chose to do after she didn't need to look out for Kron Harga. Or it was a human rite of passage. He still had unanswered questions, but those could wait. He was focused.

“VAKARIAN! Three o' clock!”

Or, maybe not.

He whipped his head and fired off a shot, splattering the geth in the process. The move was instinctual, but Shepard's tone made it clear. Especially when a hand clapped his shoulder and his commander moved forward, not bothering to look back.

“I can radio the shuttle in five minutes if you want to trade spaces with another capable soldier on the ship.”

Jack sneered at him from her spot on the other side. “You gonna take that, Scarface?”

He ignored her. “My fault, Commander. It won't happen again.”

With one injured marine left, and a battlefield full of geth, including a colossus that continued to fire massive beams at them every couple of minutes, Shepard saved the day.

Of course she did. Why wouldn't she? There was a reason why Cerberus brought her back.

Instead of rushing forward blindly, she stayed behind the barrier near the back. She baited the colossus, sending Garrus and Jack ahead a few feet so they could pick off the targets that rushed toward them. The geth were hostile and, though there were a lot of them, it wasn't enough of a collective for them to realize how they were just walking into their bullets. They charged with guns firing, filing one by one toward the trio. Jack would shockwave herds of them down the sides of the cliff or use a biotic pull to leave them helpless. When they were floating in the air, Garrus picked them off. She sprayed them down with her shotgun when they charged at her.

Knowing that the sniper perch would've been helpful, Shepard also realized that it would leave their shields fried all to hell. So instead she veered off to the left, dodging behind the structures of the building, making sure he kept the colossus' attention, until every last footsoldier was cleared and they had a straight shot to the barricade facing the enormous machine. She pulled out her particle beam with a cocky grin and was relentless, tearing down the colossus' armor until it exploded. Shards of metal dispersed in the air and shredded through any nearby geth.

“Fuckin' awesome,” Jack barked, the familiar flare of her biotics cooling. She brought her arms down and glanced at Garrus. “Get your shit together, asshole. Were you even trying?”

“Why, and step in? You were having fun,” he countered. “Besides, I'm a seasoned geth destroyer. You needed some more experience.”

They entered the safehouse that Tali fortified, and Garrus had to admit, it was good to see her. He never thought they'd be working together again, what with the original _Normandy_ crew disbanded. It was also a bit disturbing to see how many corpses littered the place. Shepard didn't seem too concerned with that, stepping around them, gathering some information before striking up a conversation with her.

“Got my dream team at last.” Shepard looked down at the quarian and grinned. “Sure you're ready this time? Or do I need to save you from _another_ life-or-death situation to change your mind? The Citadel, Freedom's Progress, Haestrom...three for three's good, right?”

Tali glanced at her and crossed her arms, hip cocking to the side. “One more time couldn't hurt. But I suppose if you're that desperate, I could let it slide.”

Garrus stood in the main battery with an exhale of relief. He was glad that Tali got out okay; judging by the state of Haestrom's affairs, it seemed Shepard got there right in time. Which was the same for his case as well. He wouldn't have lasted another day holed up in that base, not when he had already resigned his fate and was making last ditch efforts to make amends with his father. He wasn't sure what kind of sixth sense Shepard had, or maybe it was a commander's intuition, but it was commendable all the same.

Shepard stopped by the battery as usual, and for once, Garrus had something to get off his chest. Most times he was deep in calculations, trying his best to show-up the AI who insisted it needed to criticize his work. But today, he had a request; he hoped it wasn't too big.

“Shepard, before we go to Illium, I was hoping we could stop by Omega.”

“What for?”

He looked away and cleared his throat. “You remember my team? I'm trying to find the man who betrayed me. The only way to do that is to feel out some old contacts. Since I boarded the ship, I haven't been able to get into touch with her. She lived in the clinic district but got out after the plague hit, and Mordin says she's been helping out there. I'm not sure why I can't get a hold of her, but I have a delivery for her as well. Something that I can't trust being sent as a package. And...one of my team members recorded something personal for her.”

Shepard watched him for a moment, brow lifting, before shrugging her shoulders. “If it means that much to you, sure. Besides, I went down to engineering and Tali nearly tore me a new one for not getting those T6-FBA couplings that the other two asked for. Didn't think it was a big deal but apparently so. We'll dock for a few hours while I pick that shit up.”

“Great.”

Except that the closer they got to Omega, the more nervous he became. He wasn't even sure why he felt so awkward about it. It'd been a couple of months since he'd seen her, and no doubt she had a lot of questions. He did, too. It was going to be...hard to talk about all that happened at the base. He still felt ashamed that he managed to overlook Sidonis' betrayal as a possibility when everything happened.

When they got off the ship, Shepard took him and Tali. The quarian was content in following her to the nearest store, in awe of Omega. Garrus hadn't stopped to think she'd never been here, as it had been his home for the past year and a half or so. He made a beeline for the Gozu District, intent on getting to the clinic.

The Blue Suns regained control of the place. Their soldiers still walked around with their heads held high and disapproving looks when he strode past. He didn't want to cause an incident, so he let them think they were the bosses around here. His days of fighting against them were over. He couldn't afford to start any trouble now, especially alone in their territory.

The clinic was small, and there was a line of patients, but it seemed to be moving along nicely. He made his way to the reception desk and waited for one of the human assistants to notice him, clearing his throat. She was filling out some paperwork and walked over to his side, placing a datapad in front of him.

“Just some basic information, including any symptoms you might have. Wait time is about an hour and a half. We have a separate waiting room outside the clinic.”

Garrus pushed the pad back to her. “Not exactly what I'm here for. I'm a friend of Isa's. Is she around?”

The human gave him a strange look and turned around. She came back with another datapad and flipped through a couple pages of text. “She's not scheduled until tomorrow afternoon. She runs errands for supplies and is involved in some psychological evaluations, but she's not a nurse, so she isn't here every day.”

“Any chance I could get a forwarding address?”

She shook her head. “I'm sorry, but Dr. Daniel doesn't want to take any chances. She's a valued member of our crew, so we can't just give out her information to strangers.”

“Right. Good, then. If she stops by later, can you tell her that Garrus Vakarian came by?”

“I can.”

He exited the clinic, a bit disheartened. He thought for sure that she would be spending all of her hours here. It was a long, frustrated walk back to the market district. He heard Shepard mention something about going there to get something to eat while they picked up the parts for the ship.

And he fucking hated it here. The vorcha still lined up in the streets, the sick curled up in corners and puking or bleeding out all over the floor. Raw sewage dripped from leaky pipes above them in the ceiling, dirty deals crossing between shady figures. He watched a fight break out between two humans over a baggie of red sand and felt compelled to stop them. It was only then that he realized despite all of his efforts, Omega had fallen back into its routine. As many criminals as he had killed, more rose up and came to meet the challenges. He wouldn't be surprised if the Big Three gangs already had new leaders.

He stopped short. Something was – something was off.

There. That...voice pitch. The laughter.

Garrus lifted his head and zeroed in on the stand nearest to the stairs. His eyes raked over the scene. It was nothing but a greasy countertop with various tools behind the counter, but there were two figures. And one of them was so familiar that it brought back vivid memories of how much time they'd spent together, how it looked tucked into the crook of Monteague's arm.

He gathered up all of his previous feelings and stuffed them back down. Confidence in his gait, he strutted to the store front with his mandibles splayed in a grin.

“Isa,” he called out, and she turned to him.

Shock was written all over her features. He could tell by the way her mouth fell open, the way her eyes widened behind the frames of her glasses. She tensed and stepped away from her position near the other body near her, straightening her stance.

“Garrus?”

He approached her and expected some sort of dramatic reunion. A massive hug where he picked her up, something in the vids that he'd seen. But her body language was far from suggesting anything remotely like that. Her eyebrows furrowed and she had her fists clenched at her sides. She blinked and looked over him, top to bottom, again and again.

“It's uh...good to see you?” He started, unsure of how to proceed.

Spirits, she looked so different. The last time he saw her, she was ready for work, all heavy make up and that new hairstyle she'd gotten to throw Harga off her trail. But now her hair didn't reach her shoulders any more. It was even shorter than the last time, with one side shaved. Even her style of dress was almost the complete opposite of what he'd seen her sporting for her work at the bar.

“I'm sorry, I'm just...” Oh. Shit. She was tearing up. “I thought you were dead.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really wish ME2 had party banter like Dragon Age. God, can you imagine?


	29. Promises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It wasn't starry eyes and laughter any more. But it was something.

Shepard, as Garrus thought before, had perfect timing.

Perfectly awkward timing.

Tali in tow, she'd walked up to the store front, just in time to see Garrus fumbling with his hands like an idiot while a human girl stared him down.

And, Shepard being Shepard, wasn't about to let Garrus live it down. Or walk away quietly. Instead, she came between the two of them and glanced her over.

“So, you're the friend Garrus mentioned.”

Isa gave her that shy smile and Garrus found himself mirroring it. She always had a way of doing that when she felt uncomfortable. Knowing that expression of hers hadn't changed...well, it put him more at ease.

“Can we...talk in private?” the turian asked, not liking the way that Tali seemed to be smirking at him (from behind her faceplate?).

“Yeah. I think that would be a good idea.” She turned toward the store owner, a young quarian by the looks of it. “Kenn, are you going to be okay for a few minutes? I'll just be over here.”

Kenn was silent for a moment, then the lights on his voice filter flickered. “I'll be fine. Take all the time you need.”

Shooting Shepard a look, Garrus turned heel and Isa followed. He wanted privacy. They had a lot to go over, and it wasn't all going to be pretty. Judging by her initial reaction, things were only going to go downhill from here. So he managed to find a quiet alcove near the VIP section of _Afterlife_. None of the merchants shouted at him for loitering, none of the other residents were bothered by their presence, and it was quiet. What he needed.

“Your uh...hair is...different.”

She reached up and touched the longer side with a wince. “Oh, god. I didn't even...I forgot. It looks horrible, doesn't it? Not my choice, well, sort of. I was working one night and some asshole thought it would be funny to try and shave it off. I ducked so he only got half, but...not much I can do while it grows back.” She rambled on about it until she stopped herself, taking a deep breath. “We shouldn't be talking about my hair. Garrus, you're _alive_.”

“I could say the same to you. Where have you been? I've been messaging you for months now.”

She rubbed at her eyes. “I thought it was a joke. Reports all over the station said you'd died after the gangs came down on your base. I went there afterward and the whole place was trashed. No note, no trace of you. There was just blood all over the walls and dead bodies rotting. It was fucking awful.” Her shoulders shook and her chin hit her chest. “My brother told me that the Suns had taken down Archangel. I didn't believe him until I went to see it for myself. And then...I kept getting messages from your account. I knew it had to be one of them trying to find out who I was, or what I was to you. Or maybe just screwing with me in order to rub it in that they'd killed you.”

He hadn't thought about that. When they came to Omega today, EDI had mentioned that the gangs thought he died in the battle. Isa's reaction to that news had been the last thing on his mind, as he was already so distracted. He knew he should have tried another way to contact her, but he was convinced something happened to her too.

Without any warning, she reached up and dragged the back of her hand down his bandaged side. “How bad was it?”

He suddenly felt aware of the scars and the way his flesh was sewn back together. He'd gotten used to it, even felt a bit proud of his new look. He forgot that she hadn't seen him since his surgery or the gunship incident. But now, standing on front of her, he was reminded of how different he looked the last time he'd seen her. He'd never had much pride in his appearance, as he was more concerned with his performance as a soldier, but if he really wanted to dwell on it, he was surprised she even recognized him. Maybe it was why she'd paused before coming to greet him.

The worry in her eyes made him want to glaze over it, so he did.

“Pretty bad. But it's fine, now. Promise.”

She refrained from any more gentle touches, ones that reminded him of when she patched up his back before in her apartment. “You have a massive hole in your armor! You don't need to give me every last detail, but don't try to pretend it wasn't serious. Are you sure you're okay? I know the clinic here isn't exactly state of the art, but I could try to get someone to look at you, just to make sure.”

“Shepard's medical team did everything they could, which was a hell of a lot. Don't worry about it.” He knew she wasn't convinced, so he opted to deflect her continued fussing with some dry humor. “Besides, you weren't the only one who needed a makeover. Listen, I heard about the plague and I thought you were caught up in it. I'm glad you're okay. But why aren't you living there any more?”

“In Gozu District? I...” She glanced over at one of the civilians, who was inching closer to the two of them. “Maybe we should go to my place. My new place. We can talk there without any eavesdroppers.”

“Lead the way.”

The place wasn't far from the market district, enough so that he felt content in its position. Not having her walking around with Blue Suns around ever corner made him feel a bit better about the situation. He'd never trusted them, only because if she didn't have the means to pay him, they would have hurt her a lot more than they needed to.

Her new place was smaller. One bedroom, with a second mattress stacked near the cot. He figured that was where her brother slept. She didn't have much furniture, a few things from her old place, including the chair she'd let him sit in when she'd patched his wounds. He settled there while she went for the couch, tucking herself into a ball, pillow resting across her stomach. Something subconscious she did because of her weight.

“My brother left the station,” she blurted. “Left the Blue Suns, actually.”

“What?”

“He's what they call a...defector?” She smiled wryly. “Got the tattoo removed and everything. It's kind of a long story, but the short version is, he met a girl. A girl who apparently rocked his world. She convinced him to make his way out of the gang so they could do mercenary work as a duo. Away from the restrictions of the gang. He was just so...fed up with how they were treating him; he never moved up the chain despite all the times he proved himself.  So he figured that he would make a living by bounty hunting, and not just their enemies, but to anyone who would pay. The girl he met was seasoned in what she did and sort of swept him up. My brother's always been impulsive, so it didn't take much convincing for him to follow her.”

Garrus shook his head, slow, deliberate. He tried to process the information. “And he left you here?”

“I'm not made for that kind of life. And as much as this place still scares me, I've got a routine. I couldn't leave. Not when I...” She sucked in a deep breath. “Ripper's credits transferred to me. I used it to pay off my debt to Aria, and quit. I couldn't work there after you were...gone. It was too dangerous. The merc bands regrouped and the customers that came in were downright nasty. The turian who cut my hair was just a jerk, but there was this batarian bartender who was poisoning humans.” She shuddered. “I tried to let security know, but who's going to believe a single human? So I took the money and cut off my debt. Found someone else, an asari, to take my job. You know how Aria is – she was more than happy to fill the void with someone of her own kind. And asari make a lot more credits in tips than humans do. Everyone's happy.”

He felt himself grow more frustrated by the minute. “So you left your old apartment because of that?”

“Oh, no. The plague hit and I was evacuated. I didn't have anywhere to go. I met Kenn and he was nice enough to let me stay with him.” She gestured to the apartment. “I guess while things were getting settled, we sort of got comfortable with each other. He's been my roommate ever since. When the district was clean, I was given the offer to go back, but I didn't take it. I couldn't live in that apartment again, not when so many people died. I got a job at the clinic there because I knew they needed help. They don't pay much, if at all, so it's sort of a side thing. There's a restaurant around here, Zol's Place? That's where I get my money, as a waitress. Not as high paying as _Afterlife,_ but it's something.”

Garrus couldn't shake the concern, but he didn't want to patronize her. “The Blue Suns don't give you trouble? At the clinic?”

“Dr. Daniel is incredibly strict about their presence. He has mechs and a tech expert on standby; Dr. Solus, the man who started it up, taught him about how hired muscle can go wrong. The guys who I come across don't recognize me. Most of the guys that my brother was friends with are either dead or off station. And even though he technically defected, they don't have the time or resources to actively search for him.”

She paused and leaned more toward him. “Garrus...what happened? All I know is that I've got Ripper's credits in my bank account and an empty base.”

He looked down at his hands. “Sidonis. He betrayed us.”

“Sidonis? But why?” The hurt in her voice was more than he could reflect on his face. “He was your friend. He started the gang with you. How could he?”

“I'm under the impression that he sold us out for credits. Or his life. Something else, maybe. It's why I need your help. You've always had a knack for picking up on information from here. You've been my best contact since I got into this type of work.”

She swallowed. “But I don't work at the bar any more, Garrus. Sitting in the marketplace isn't the same.”

“If you can use any of your resources, it'd be a huge help. I have a couple of other people I could try to get to know. Your friend, Kenn? He's a quarian, he knows tech. If he can hack into some systems or pull any information on Sidonis from local servers, I'd be grateful.”

“I don't like the idea of involving him, but if it's for a good cause, he'll help me out.” She sighed. “I just...Sidonis. I can't even imagine.”

Garrus knew what he was doing was cruel, but he had to let it out. “Listen. When I was...was trapped in the base, I was trying to piece together how everything happened. The Blue Suns were the ones who initiated and led the attack. I'm not going to lie to you: I thought that you might have been the one who sold us out. Only because of your brother's involvement with them. And the thought of Sidonis being the one, the guy who agreed with me at the very beginning, I...”

A few more tears slipped down her cheeks. She wiped them away.

“I know, for sure, it wasn't you. It couldn't have been. And I realized that the night that I came to the base. I'm sorry.”

“No. I get it. I just...I know how it looks. I'm glad that you didn't come up here all fire and brimstone, then. Looking to get even with me. I wish I knew about the plan. That week was when my brother left, though, so I was busy trying to get settled. That and...well, never mind. The fact is, I'm glad you're okay. I spent the last few months grieving for everyone. Knowing you're alive makes it easier.”

He surveyed her face and went to activate his omnitool. “Speaking of which, I...when I got to the base, Ripper was still alive. He made me record a message for you. If I sent it to your inbox, promise to actually open it?”

She gave him a watery laugh. “Yes.”

“And these are...from him.” He reached into the pocket of his armor and pushed the small box toward her. She picked it up from the table and rolled it around in her fingers. Once she lifted the lid, and peered inside, he felt obligated to explain. “They're his parents' colony emblems. It means that--”

“I know,” she cut him off. “And thank you. I don't want to look like an even bigger baby bawling in front of you while I watch the video so I'll...hold off on that for now. But it must have been hard. I'm glad he wasn't alone when he died.”

She asked about his mission and he relayed as much as he thought appropriate. She remembered him mentioning Commander Shepard and sure enough, put two and two together.

After another half hour of catching up, he knew he had to leave. He stood up and walked with her to the door, the both of them planning to make their way to Kenn's Salvage. Isa surprised him with another hug, this one tighter and more resolved than the first. Her face was buried in his cowl but his translator still picked up a few muffled words.

“The last time I did this was the last time I ever saw you,” she choked out. “Don't do it again.”

“I can't promise anything with the mission, but I can say that I've got a great team. Just do me a favor: keep your parents away from any colonies. At least until this mess is sorted out.”

She smiled up at him. “Deal.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> every day i wanna post more chapters but i know i shouldn't!!!


	30. Expansion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Memories were a funny thing, Garrus realized. They could paint an exaggerated portrait and make him believe it was undeniable truth.

Shepard was still at the shop when he came back. That or she walked around and wanted to catch Garrus once they were finished with business. Whatever the case, she was nice enough to wait instead of just heading back to the ship.

“Had a chat with your friend Kenn,” Shepard started. “He said Harrot was giving him a hard time. I don't think he'll be as much trouble as he was before.”

“Really?” Isa was relieved, and it spoke volumes. “Thank you so much, Commander. It means a lot.”

“No problem. Any friend of Garrus...” She trailed off. “We should be getting back to the docking bay. Ready?”

Garrus nodded. “Yeah.”

“Wait. Before you go, I wanted to thank you.” Kenn stepped forward, body turned toward the turian. “Isa told me about how much you looked out for her. If it wasn't for you, she would've been dead...or worse. I hope someday I can repay you for that.”

He seemed to be giving off a strangely enthusiastic vibe, but Garrus squashed his curiosity. “Uh, sure. And you will. I think you can help me out, but she'll give you the details.”

“Great. I'm glad to settle my debts.”

Shepard went down to engineering to make sure that the parts he bought for the ship were being installed. Garrus was starving and, seeing as how he didn't pick up anything on Omega, decided to grab something from the mess hall before he tried to head off to bed. Tali had already eaten, but offered her company since they really hadn't had much time alone together. The two of them settled in opposite seats while she fumbled with her omnitool.

“Those two make such a cute couple,” she finally sighed.

Garrus paused in mid-bite. “Hmm?”

“Your friend, the human girl. And Kenn. It's nice to see that they found each other in a place like Omega.” She shuddered. “At first I was excited, but it reminded me a little too much of life on the flotilla. Cramped and dirty. Being here on the _Normandy_ again is much better, and I think I'm getting used to the silence.”

He shot her a strange look. “They're not together. They're roommates.”

She laughed. “Please, Garrus. I'm a quarian. I know body language, especially in my own people. If they're not official, it's an inevitability. Don't you think it was strange at how grateful he was for you looking out for her? It's because it shows how much he cares. Besides, a quarian on a strange station wouldn't just share a room with just anybody. Sure, most of us have to find beds in shelters, but with our own place? It makes us nervous, not being with our own kind. Especially if he's on his Pilgrimage. We learn to look out for ourselves, and offering our homes to strangers isn't something we do lightly.”

He continued to eat, thinking over what she said. “But you came onto the _Normandy_ and you had no trouble with the human crew.”

“It was also a military ship. I've booked passage on a few ships before, but I've always been on guard. And I knew how to handle myself. Shotgun, remember? But Kenn got into trouble the first few days he got onto the station. Did you know that he had his credit chit stolen when he first docked? He's been trying to make a living ever since. It's a hard life, working to pay for a ticket elsewhere, and people are mistrustful of quarians as it is. No doubt he wouldn't just lend a hand to anyone.”

“Well, she’s not like that. She's anything but xenophobic.”

Tali's voice went sly. “That's what I mean. It would be a little hard for a quarian on his Pilgrimage not to take to someone who showed him an ounce of kindness, especially with how things have gone for him so far.”

He finished his plate and stood up to wash it in the sink. “It's just not possible, Tali.”

“Why? Because he's a quarian?”

“Exactly.”

The lighthearted air she carried about her turned sour. When she spoke next, her voice was bitter and sharp. “What's that supposed to mean?”

“I mean, the species dynamic isn't exactly...compatible. I mean, how would that even work, what with him being in his suit? She's a human, he's a quarian. They could be friends at best, but it isn't like a relationship with an asari.”

She stood up abruptly, nearly knocking her chair back in the process. “For your information, it _is_ possible. Just because he's a quarian and not an...asari, doesn't mean it can't work. If they really like each other, they would find a way. And you should be happy for your friend instead of damning their relationship from the start! Bosh'tet!”

He watched her leave, bewildered at her sudden switch in demeanor. He hadn't meant to insult her, as he had learned a lot more about quarians since befriending her, but it was how he felt. Sidonis' viewpoint on the topic sort of stuck with him. Not the bit about it being a waste of time, but it just seemed...too strange. The prospect of a romance between two alien species still boggled his mind. More power to them if that was the route they wanted to take.

It was just...when Ripper was pursuing her, even though it was awkward physically and he wondered how the hell that even worked, it was a little more normal because he'd been raised by humans. Besides, Ripper had been with lots of human women, as he'd claimed, so he was a bona fide xenophile. He had the body of a turian but the cultural mindset of a human; it was just body differences.  But a human and a quarian? That would be as strange to him as a volus and an elcor hooking up.

Whatever the case, he felt like he should apologize to her, but he had no idea what for. Tali knew he was far from racist. She was his friend, after all. He didn't have problems with quarians dating other species, it just seemed...like a lot of trouble to go through. Why would anyone search for a partner outside of their own race in the first place? How would one even become attracted to a body type so different than their own?

* * *

 

It took a few days to get to Illium. In that time, he busied himself with the weapons systems. Tali had been especially short with him concerning the power draws he took from engineering, and was not afraid to get on his comm to berate him for it. At first he was surprised at her coming at him, but then started doing it on purpose because it got more hilarious as the hours waned on. Shepard was right; two years had changed them. She had more of a backbone now than she did back on the SR-1. Not that she was by any means soft during their first big mission, but she had a sense of wonder and naivete that made her eager to please. Now she knew Garrus and wasn't afraid to tell him her opinion.

Shepard picked Garrus and Tali for his ground team while they checked out the two dossiers. But first she wanted to catch up with Liara, seeing as how they received an interesting welcome as soon as they stepped off the ship.

“Looks like Liara's made a name for herself here. Paying off our fees and sending a greeter. Far cry from the girl trapped in a Prothean bubble.”

Shepard laughed. “She's resourceful, I'll give her that.”

Illium was comparable to the native race that inhabited it. It was beautiful on the outside; serene, peaceful, years of ingenuity pieced together from a plethora of experiences. Its attractiveness reeled people in and gave them a false sense of security. But underneath the thick, bureaucratic layer, there was as much danger and power as anywhere else. A social and political hierarchy that favored strength over weakness, superiority over inferiority, and an immense amount of competition in order to get to the top.

Asari were the same. While they looked soft and demure in normal circumstances, always polite and often the pinnacle of what other races strived to be, it was only a front. Many of their people knew the system in and out, and had years of experience due to their longevity. They gathered as much information as they could to reach the top and come out as the queen bee, as it were, intelligent, calculating, and always changing.

All in all, a formidable force.

Liara was no exception.

The stuttering, socially inept archaeologist was no more. Garrus never thought he'd hear the young asari, with stars in her eyes and hero worship for his commander, threaten someone on her comm. Even her style of dress was so much more authoritative, her posture demanding.

However, when she whipped around, and her face filled with surprise, she reverted back to that rescued woman and the affection returned. Half-lidded eyes, embracing Shepard in a hug, limbs wrapped around her when they kissed. Garrus felt a bit strange watching the scene play out; he'd never even seen the two engage in anything like it before, just heard rumors. That and it felt so intimate. Both of them had been professional back on the SR-1.

Despite all of that, Liara still declined to join the old crew. Even with all three of them there, with memories of Saren and the geth, she couldn't abandon her priorities. Shepard fell silent at that but said she understood, and they got straight to business.

The three of them stopped to get something to eat. Tali was quiet for the most part, which was another thing that intrigued Garrus. He knew she hadn't been here either, and he half-expected her to wander around in wonder, or try to drag Shepard to the various tech emporiums for some upgrades. Both of them seemed distracted.

Shepard was resilient, though. She knew that if something was bothering her, she had to push forward.

So he did, and Tali followed suit.

* * *

 

The thing about Isa was that she always came through.

Somehow, despite her limited experience, when she set her mind to something, she got results. When he asked her to be his contact during his killing spree on Omega, she made her way around the bar and picked up as much as she could. She gave him leads, tips. At first it was her form of payment for overlooking her brother's involvement with the gang, but it evolved into so much more. She was honest, hardworking, and eternally grateful for all that he and his squad were doing for the station.

Even now, with ten of them dead, she didn't spit on her relationships with them. She could have taken Ripper's money and ignored Garrus' request. She didn't. She accepted his plead for help and, in the middle of the night, pinged him to ask if he was busy.

She was paying for her extranet connection by the minute, but still wanted to talk with him face-to-face instead of sending a message. He needed to hear things from her voice, after all. So he started up the vidchat and waited for the connection to stabilize. It was nice to see her instead of reading text from his screen; it made things more personal.

“Garrus, I found out some things about Sidonis.” The comm crackled and her image froze a few times, but it stuttered back into normality. “He cleared his accounts before the attack; his bank statements showed that he withdrew all his funds. But before that, his purchase history suggests he bought a ticket off the station.”

“So this was planned?”

“Looks that way. I spoke with my brother. He doesn't know what's going on, but he said that the only man he knows who can put people into protection, including a safehouse for criminals on the run, is named Fade. His base of operations is on the Citadel. The Suns use the guy a lot when they need to outrun some C-Sec officers while doing deals there. He's the best of the best, a specialist. If anyone could get Sidonis to disappear, it would be him. He knows the way around the system, hence why there hasn't been any trace.”

 Fade. The Citadel.

“Got it,” Garrus committed the information to memory. “Thanks for everything. I'll right his wrongs, don't you worry about it.”

“Just be careful, Garrus.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> four for you, tali'zorah. you go, tali'zorah.


	31. Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It just worked for them. No dancing around it.

He asked Shepard if he could sit the next mission out, only because he was so damn tired.

Garrus understood that Shepard had priorities. Running around the galaxy in order to solve everyone else's problems was at the bottom of her list. Which made sense, because the squad needed to focus on how to get to the Collector base in order to kill them all off. But as the suicide mission drew nearer to its intended goal, the other team members wanted closure. They had issues they wanted to resolve and asked Shepard for her help. She couldn't bear the thought of turning any of them down, only because each proposal was just as serious as the last. For Garrus, he supposed that a dose of revenge for his fallen team on Omega didn't exactly stack up to the woes of father-son relationships, endangered siblings, childhood trauma, or the accusation of treason.

Huh. He always sort of wondered what the flotilla was like. Maybe he should have boarded with Tali and Shepard.

But Shepard saw that he was worn thin. The commander had some sort of superhuman, neverending amount of energy. Maybe it was something associated with being a biotic, eezo infused in her DNA and bringing her to heights unrivaled by any other normal humans. Whatever the case, she was being pulled in about ten different directions, but agreed to everything with a smile. Garrus, on the other hand, had limits. Not that he would admit aloud, as he had in fact debated with Shepard about going aboard the ship for Tali's trial, but he knew he was terrible at lying. Shepard saw right through him and ordered him to take the next mission off.

Besides, she was in good hands. Shepard would make things right. And Garrus was sure that Thane might've been just a tiny bit resentful that his kill count was higher due to more frequent missions, so it made sense for the drell to tag along instead.

He just wished that things would hurry along. Shepard promised that she would get Garrus to the Citadel as soon as possible, but from how far they were from the Serpent Nebula, it made sense to take care of Tali's business first. They would work their way toward Fade's place of residence through a series of other missions.

Fine. Let Sidonis get comfortable in his new life, under his new name. It would make killing him all the sweeter.

ErashMonteagueMierinGrundanKrulMelenisRipperSensatVortashButlerWeaver.

He had a lot of names to answer for.

He was working in the main battery, trying to clear his head, when he heard some muffled voices beyond the door to his station. It was late, far into the night cycle, but he was a turian so he had no reason to be curled up like all the other humans on the ship. Which made it all the stranger. Sure, there had been some recruits who were unable to sleep, and they often snuck into the mess hall after hours for a midnight snack. But Garrus could tell from the voices that it was Tali and Shepard, back from their trip.

He exited the battery and went to walk down the narrow aisle to the mess hall, wondering what happened. Judging by the quiver in Tali's voice, it didn't sound good.

She and Shepard sat with plates of food in front of them, though it looked like neither had touched anything. Tali glanced up at him and he wished that he could see her expression.

“Garrus,” she started. “Come sit with us.”

“How did it go?”

Shepard looked at Tali, scratched her head. “Well, the bad news is...Tali's father was killed. And none of the bastards cared to let her in on the news until she stepped up to be evaluated for her so-called crimes.”

The news was unsettling. Garrus had his own issues with his family, his mother's health declining as of late, but he always hated this part of the job when he was in C-Sec. Trying to calm frantic mothers and fathers, comforting children whose parents or relatives were killed. To turians, it was all about duty. It was different for quarians, humans, asari...they had their own appropriate ways to deal with the fallen. Krogan always seemed laissez-faire about the situation, but Tali was more sensitive than that. He realized he didn't even know much about her relationship with her father; Shepard mentioned something about their dynamic, but not enough for Garrus to get the gist of her true feelings on the situation.

“I'm sorry for your loss,” he found himself saying mechanically.

“I'm fine. Really.” Her hand was linked in Shepard's across the table, and she gave her a light squeeze. After which, she pulled her arm back to settle on her lap. “No use in lingering.”

Garrus settled on Shepard's side, facing her. “And the good news?”

“Miss vas Normandy has been cleared of any and all charges. Had to lawyer it up a bit, but it went by all right.”

Tali laughed. “She's being modest. You should have listened to her speech. You know the type.”

“The type to rouse up a motley crew of misfits to chase after geth and the infamous Collectors?” Garrus suggested.

“That's the one.”

He thought a moment. “Tali'Zorah vas Normandy, huh? I take it that wasn't your idea?”

“No, not initially. But it _does_ have a nice ring to it.” Her voice went smug. “Considering all of the work I put into maintaining the ship, I might as well take some credit for it.”

Shepard grinned and leaned back in her chair. “If you ever wanted to make it official, permission from Joker would've been nice. I'm sure he'd like to know that 'his baby' was being claimed by the _Normandy_ 's top engineer.”

“He'll get over it. Besides, you're the commander, not him. If anyone gets a say in whether I take the name, it's you.”

“And I couldn't be happier. Especially with the sour look that Han'Garrel gets when he realizes _your_ name is so much better than his. Qwib-Qwib, really?”

Garrus watched the two of them and felt better about his situation. Shepard truly was remarkable in all that she could do. Getting Tali out of trouble was no small feat, but cheering her up after such a huge loss...that was in an entirely new league of impressive. He was a bit sorry he missed the mission, but knew he wouldn't have been much help when they discovered the news about her father's death. At least now that was out of the way, and Shepard was one step closer to aiding Garrus in his last request.

* * *

 

Slowly but surely, the others had their issues taken care of. Garrus was one of the last three. He and Thane were picked to be taken at the same time; Shepard figured that they could knock out both of their problems out. Strangely enough, Samara hadn't mentioned anything yet about needing help, so she must have been waiting for everyone else to have their time. The justicar was strangely noble in that regard. Or, maybe she just had no leads yet on the fugitive she was trying to track down.

Whatever the case, Garrus headed to the armory to switch out his sniper rifle, and he heard Tali and Shepard arguing inside. He caught sight of them through the security mirror posted up in the corner of the ceiling.

“I like my E-23,” Tali shot at her, cradling said weapon to her chest. “Who says I have to change?”

“Let's talk specs. Compared to mine, I have one point five times larger ammo capacity, twenty percent reduced kickback, and a fire rate of a hundred RPM, compared to your measly forty-eight, which means a substantial increase in damage per second.”

She scoffed. “You forgot that you have a lower base damage _and_ a higher weight.”

“If we're talking weight, I could bring in the Claymore.”

“I'm not even sure how you haven't snapped your arm in half yet.”

She laughed. “Just admit I'm right. The E-27 makes your pile of tin obsolete. You should switch it up. Older doesn't necessarily mean better. Look at the _Normandy_. I've seen you pour over the drive core diagnostics before. As much as I hate Cerberus, their additions to the ship have made it great. And you,” she plucked the shotgun from her hands, “need to let go and try something new.”

Shepard placed her own gun into her hands. Tali ran her fingers over it and seemed to consider her words. “Hmm...how about a trial run?” she offered. “I get to use your gun on the next mission. And try it out, to see how I like it.”

“Done.”

Garrus watched in bewilderment. Shepard's fingers raked down her envirosuit, first thumbing her shoulders and then heading downward, finally settling on Tali's hips. She brought her close, one hand splayed across her lower back, trying to eradicate the distance between them. Both of them stared at each other, engrossed, full-on eye contact and a twitch of a smile on her lips.

Wait. What?

When did they--

How did that even--

His jumbled thoughts were interrupted as Tali brought up the shotgun, pointing the muzzle on Shepard's chest.

“So this is what comes between us?” Shepard mused. “Not the suit, but my preference in shotguns?”

“You agreed to a trial,” she countered. “I could use it right now.”

“You could. But you wouldn't. I think you already know what you like.” She grabbed it and tossed it onto the table, the shotgun skittering across the surface. When it stilled, she bent down to wrap Tali up in her arms instead.

Fuck. How did Garrus keep interrupting people in their most private moments? Was this a curse?

In pure mortification and utter confusion, he backed up from the door and turned heel. Well that was weird. And awkward. Enough that the drilling silence on the elevator all the way up to the crew deck mocked him. He wandered out once the doors opened, somehow managed to steer himself into the main battery, and decided to camp out there for the next...oh, ten to fifteen hundred years.

It wasn't that he was disturbed by the idea. Hell, he was happy for both of them if that was what they wanted, but how did he miss it? How did it even happen? When did they even have time to talk about it? And why now? He had a million questions and tried not to dwell on any of them. It was none of his business, really. Two of his friends decided to get together. Same thing that Shepard and Liara did on the SR-1 and nobody gave a damn, aside from the occasional teasing when either one wasn't around. It shouldn't have been any different, except that it was. He figured that the two had been close, though not in that way.

But the more he thought about it, the less unusual it seemed. They were good for each other. No one else could make Tali that happy. He'd known them long enough to know how deep-seated that trust was in their friendship. And Shepard deserved someone in her life as well.

He went back to work on the cannons in a lighter mood.

An hour later, the battery door opened up and Shepard came in, glancing around. “Hey Garrus, ETA is about thirty minutes. Ready to get Fade?”

“It was only a matter of time. So...” All past awkwardness gone, he couldn't help for a good ol' fashioned ribbing. “Went to switch out my rifle earlier and stumbled across some fraternization that would've left Udina outraged.”

Shepard looked over him and broke out into laughter. “I knew I heard someone lurking. Thought maybe Jacob came back and would've stepped away instead of watching us like a creeper.”

“Trust me, I was enthralled by your persuasive argument about shotguns. Really, Shepard?”

She continued to wear that cocky grin, not perturbed at all. “Worked, didn't it? Only way to charm her, she's so high maintenance. Sorry. Didn't mean to scar you, she thought we were alone.”

“No harm done. I was a little surprised at first.”

Shepard glanced down at the floor, then back up at him again. “So was I. Until Kelly pointed it out when we first picked her up from Haestrom, I hadn't really thought about it. Then this whole thing with her treason accusation...I guess it just sort of made me realize how much I cared. Liara was great, but it's been two years. She has her own agenda now, and she's definitely made a life for herself since I've been gone. When we saw her on Illium, it sank in just how long it'd been since those days on the original _Normandy_. I couldn't expect her to drop everything to come with me. But Tali did. Even with how much of an asset she is to the Flotilla, she finished her mission and wanted to follow me. Even when there was an incident with Cerberus that caused an uproar with her people, she trusted me to make the decision to pursue the Collectors.”

She paused. “And you too, Garrus. When I stormed up the stairwell, you didn't have to leave Omega and come along with me. I wouldn't have sent you a medical bill either way. It's good to know that I've still got a part of my old crew. You know, someone less prone to insubordination than Joker, anyway.”

Garrus considered her words, touched by the sincerity to them. “Does this mean you're asking me out?”

Both of them laughed at that, and Shepard clapped him on the shoulder. “I don't think that's an option. Enough about that, though. Let's suit up.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i will nEVER forgive bioware for cutting bi tali
> 
> ffs she still installs nerve stim pro and human anatomy shit in me2 with femshep as the protag
> 
> fuck


	32. Split

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> His life was a series of "what-ifs".

The Citadel was still the same.

He hated Illium like he hated Omega.

And he hated Omega like he hated the Citadel.

Same stories, different environment.

On Illium, the asari preached the safety of their city. There was a thin sheen of success that covered the layer of lies and disappointment, the thugs working in a simple business-like manner.

At least on Omega, the criminals were up front, not afraid to hide behind regulations and rules. They went about their business in the open, which made it that much easier to get rid of them and their projects. They didn't hide behind innocents and civilians.

In terms of dishonesty, the Citadel was near the top of his list. On the Citadel, there were no contracts like on the asari homeworld, but this was the home place of the Council, and it still fell far short from justice. Criminals operated in the underbelly, hush-hush, while diplomats and political figureheads turned the other way. They took advantage of so many because of the restrictions that were put on the officers meant to protect them, and all to hold a dignified appearance to those who docked here. This station was supposed to be the pinnacle of revolution and discovery. Instead, it only existed to blind its residents with visions of sophistication and synthesized beauty.

Nothing about the Citadel was real, from its projected sunny skies to its friendly smiles of the people. Fake fake fake.

Like Fade.

Fade was a simple nickname for the person under the mask to go about their business. To know that someone who helped criminals first worked at C-Sec only disillusioned him more. What was the point of pinning a badge and duties on someone when they couldn't keep their oath? What kind of person had zero honor in that they agreed to house and relocate others who had done horrible fucking things? With no questions asked, just an exchange of credits and nothing more?

The answer was Harkin.

Shepard knew him. When she was looking for Garrus on this same station over two years ago, she tried to interrogate the bastard down at Chora's Den. The guy was drowning in booze, droning on about how he'd been wronged because of his issues with command. How they only kept him on because of political reasons despite the fact that he was a class one scumbag. Humans were supposed to have a role model, not a whining, self-righteous asshole who thought he was doing the right thing by taking advantage of C-Sec's systems for his own personal gain.

And of course, _of fucking course_ , the Blue Suns were the ones who were there to protect him.

A combination of LOKI mechs and an onslaught of soldiers was frustrating. Garrus knew that he was so close to getting answers, but every step they took, wave after wave of them came rushing toward him. He fired off with no abandon, zeroing in on his sniper rifle, aiming through his scope, tearing down shields with a single headshot that dropped them down. Watching their brain matter exit out the back of their skulls in a gory mess was more than satisfying. He wanted them all gone but they didn't know how to quit, jumping from behind crates, shouting out orders to each other.

He lifted from his spot in order to pick off a nasty soldier who was perched across the way, intent on getting rid of him, when he paused. He looked down the scope and hesitated.

It was him.

His stomach clenched in fear and he looked to his left, where Shepard was taking some cover. Thane was elsewhere, and there was no way to stop them. He tried to shout over the gunfire, eyes on Shepard, letting the attention of the Suns preoccupy them while they tried to gun him down. His voice was hoarse from his calls but no one heard him.

Shepard jumped up from her position, cocked the shotgun, and pulled the trigger.

Garrus watched the spray scatter and a million images flashed through his head. He pictured the wide range of expressions Isa had when she spoke about her brother, bad and good experiences burned into memory. It was the same affection he felt for Solana, so visible and effortless on her part, woven into her words of praise and playful disapproval.

She loved him, she begged for his protection.

Garrus had broken his promise.

The body dropped with a sick thud. The sounds around him faded from memory and became muffled, distant. He glanced over at Shepard and saw no trace of recognition, which made sense, considering he'd never gotten too deep about the basis of his friendship with Isa. The colors of the world streamlined, creating an afterimage in its place, the light fixtures above intensifying in the process. He felt blinded and lost, dread taking hold of his conscious thought, his fingers shaking as he gripped the rifle.

Once the immediate fire cleared, and there was room to move ahead, Shepard turned back to find him. “Garrus?” she chimed. “Status report?”

“Commander,” Garrus stuttered, his senses going into overload. “Give me a minute.”

He climbed down from his post and stumbled toward the body, each step heavier than the last. The slick pools of blood around him and the smell of freshly popped heat sinks only made the atmosphere that much more vivid. Nausea crept up his throat when he pulled himself up on top of the platform, dropping to his knees. His fingers lingered on the helmet before he tore it away, the head lolling once it was exposed.

Shepard stood behind him, the familiar sound of her N7 boots clanking against the floor. “You know him?”

The boy's eyes fluttered, a shade lighter than the dark brown his sister had. He moved his mouth to speak but winced and tried to reach for his rifle.

A green, custom-painted assault rifle.

With a blazing white cursive letter imprinted near the trigger.

_“It's your standard issue E-15 Vindicator, except he painted it green. Has a big stencil of a 'U' on the side.”_

“Shepard, I need an emergency evac. We need to get him out of here.”

“Garrus, what--?”

The turian turned toward his oldest friend, face solemn. “Please. Trust me on this.”

He scanned Rai with his omnitool, readings on full display. Heart rate was elevated, blood pressure low. The spray had nailed him in the chest, but the shrapnel was being worked out by the armor. His bleeding was slowing, which meant that medigel dispensary was in full functionality. Hopefully the wounds would close and there wouldn't be an infection. He'd lost a lot of blood already, though, and needed someone to put him into a capable doctor's hands.

Fuck, he wished Mordin was here.

“Thane, can you carry him out the way we came?”

“Indeed.”

“Do it. Garrus, we cleared out the soldiers on the way here, so the path will be fine. Thane will grab someone on the comm as soon as he hops on that elevator and gets to the transit station so there won't be any interference. We need to keep going if we're going to find Fade.”

Down to two instead of their three-man squad, it was a miracle they managed to take out both YMIR mechs. The entire time he fought, Garrus couldn't stop reliving the moment he realized who it was that he was planning to kill. How easy it would have been for his finger to slip before his brain made the connection, effectively obliterating the one life he aimed to protect. Shepard couldn't have known, but it still didn't make it any easier knowing that the boy's condition was in Thane's hands.

Sending an assassin to save a mercenary's life? Laughable in any other case.

In all his frustration, he didn't hold back with Harkin. He was the only obstacle in getting his revenge, and Garrus intended to make every moment as unpleasant as the last. He could still feel the disappointment thrumming through him with every slam he made, the knee in the groin, the weight of his foot against the human's neck. So easy, he thought to himself. So easy to rid the life of someone beneath him. A person with such little concern for innocents, for allowing someone like Sidonis passage and safety after all he'd done.

Despite everything, Shepard wouldn't let him punish this man. She grabbed his arm and stopped the shot that Garrus wanted to take. She gave him that _look_ , like something was wrong, and turned heel so that they could get to the rendezvous point.

Garrus ignored her, intent on making sure that he would commit every further action into memory. He wanted to feel the way that Sidonis' skull gave into his bullet, watch every rivulet of blood stain the man's chest and polished floors, relieving him of this world. Rightful that he go with the rest of the team, just as Garrus would do by the end of the run to the Collectors.

But he couldn't have that. Not when they climbed into the skycar and Shepard _insisted_ on drilling him. With the tone that she might use with a child or one of the Council members. Are you sure this is what you really want? Why? Have you changed this much?

It wasn't a debate. Sidonis had to _pay._ Sidonis had to _die._ It was what was right. Right for the squad, for

ErashMonteagueMierinGrundanKrulMelenisRipperSensatVortashButlerWeaver

because Shepard wasn't there to _see_ it. She couldn't have imagined how Garrus searched the base top to bottom to find the bodies, to have an agonizing encounter with a lovesick turian who had dreams of the future that would have never been. To make promises to corpses who couldn't hear him, watch his friend bleed out over the floor until he went still and his lips stopped quivering. No one but him to drag each and every body into the flames, shoving them inside and letting the remains burn and flake off into ashes, fingers wrapped tight around bonds of matrimony to wives who wouldn't know until weeks later.

Ten lives _gone._ Gone because of the selfish actions of one person. Nothing excused it. He was a _coward_. He put his life before ten others, the type of decision that a criminal would make. Despite his agreement in _Afterlife_ after being beaten to near death by a hulking krogan, and a camaraderie shared over drinks in that slimy bar, with dreams of a safer station, he faltered when it counted most. He damned his entire squad just so he could live. And for what? Was he contributing anything close to what good he'd done on Omega, festering away in some Citadel apartment room and living his life under a new identity, as if nothing ever happened?

Shepard glanced down at her omnitool, then to Garrus. “Your friend's in ICU, but things are looking good, despite everything.”

Good. The news swept over him and erased any distractions. His mind was clear. Nothing would stop him now, not when he had a debt to cash in.

“When we get back to the ship, we need to have a talk about why you chose to spare the life of a Blue Sun.”

“I'll tell you the whole damn story,” he replied. “Before that, I'll have to make a call.”

“Inform his next of kin? Don't bother, the nurses already looked into it. No family on the station, but his girlfriend showed up to take care of the paperwork.”

Garrus shook his head. “Not the person who needs to know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh man we're so close to the end i can almost taste it


	33. Jarred

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Black and white he could deal with. But gray? He didn't know what to do with gray.

His mind was at ease.

Sidonis was in range.

Shepard ready to distract that traitor.

It was all coming to an end. The finishing chapter of a story that went horribly wrong. One full of betrayal and heartache, gritty work with an unfinished purpose. This was it. He would answer for his crimes, right his wrongs, pay with his blood. Come full circle, humans called it. A final act of mercy that he didn't deserve.

The shot never came.

Garrus never took it.

Just like that, all of his sureness, his resolve, his final decision...it crumbled before his very eyes.

Shepard stopped him with her honeyed words, logic infused with reason, steering Garrus away from the primal urges he wanted to satiate. She manipulated him, dug deep into his psyche, threw out facts that he was prepared to overlook. She refused Garrus the one thing he wanted before heading into certain death with his commander, denying the chance to make the world right again. Tearing him away from fulfilling every bloody fantasy he had when he closed his eyes and thought back to the moment where he returned to the base, alone and vulnerable. No time to grieve, only to aim his rifle and shoot until there was nothing left.

Bitterness filled him to his core. He watched Sidonis scurry away and felt...nothing. Not the immense satisfaction he hoped he would after this moment. No quiet joy at his death, no peace that the murders of his teammates had been avenged.

The rifle was cold in his grip, body language stiff, mind reeling from what just happened. Garrus walked away from the perfect perch he had. A place where he thought the universe would finally give him an ounce of clarity, that sense of purpose he only felt when he was doing right. All of it melted away into nothing but shades of gray. Unremarkable, subdued. No longer a high contrast filter he saw the world through, but a mash of hues and tones that brought on more questions than he had answers for.

Riding back to the _Normandy_ 's dock was quiet. The blood still rushed through his head and he tried to quiet it, measuring his breaths. Counting his heartbeats.

They still had Thane's business to take care of, so when he holed himself up in the battery, he knew that they wouldn't be leaving quite yet. As soon as he felt that he was alone, he fired up the extranet connection and tried to place a call to Isa. It couldn't wait. He knew it must have been at least two in the morning there, if not later, but she was the type who would've wanted an update no matter the time.

It took a few tries. Three or four. He refused to give up. Finally, her weary face came onto the screen, hair in slight disarray, glasses crooked across her nose. She rubbed her eyes with her fingers and blinked at his image.

“Garrus? What's wrong?”

“Your brother's on the Citadel. He was – he was in the line of fire when we were in the factory district, and got himself landed in the hospital. He's clear for now, but it was bad.”

She squeezed her eyes shut hard before reopening them, blinking rapidly. “He what? What happened?”

He explained everything. How he was so close to getting to Fade, how he recognized that stupid, off-putting color of his rifle at the last minute, how he tried to no avail to gain Shepard's attention, how the body hit the floor and he rushed to check if it was really him. He was ashamed, and the undertones were vibrant, only because he couldn't fathom disappointing her like he had done so many others. He promised her one thing, he gave her his word, and he was so close to shattering it completely.

She wasn't crying but was clearly upset, swallowing to get rid of the lump in her throat. “His girlfriend's with him? Okay, fine, but I have to get to him. I need to book a transport. He talked to me today and mentioned that he was doing an undercover job, that he had a bounty for someone named Harkin. I can't fucking believe him, he risked blending in with the rest of the Suns to get to your link to Sidonis! If you weren't there, if they found out what he was really there for, he would have...”

Her voice cracked and she turned away from the camera. She wasn't speaking to Garrus any more. “No, just a small bag. I have some put away, but it was meant as a donation for the clinic. Okay. Can you look for me? Thanks.”

Her exchange with her roommate finished, she locked eyes with the turian. “You saved his life, Garrus. Thank you.”

After all of this, she still felt as though she owed him. It wasn't right. “If it wasn't for me, he wouldn't have been shot. I was the one who tracked Fade down and it led me right to the warehouse. He was prepared to gun us down in order to keep his cover.”

“And I'll kill him when I get to the Citadel. It'll take me a couple of days.”

“I can loan you some credits.” Anything to make up for it. For the image of her brother crumpling to the ground and bleeding out.

“I'm fine. Really, it's okay. I...Garrus, thank you for telling me, but I need to get off the comm. You know I'm not a pretty crier, and I need to do some packing.”

She cut the connection without a hurried goodbye.

He deactivated his omnitool and slumped on the chair, head hung low and back arched while he let his muscles go lax.

Damn.

Shepard and Thane were doing their business, and his commander insisted that they didn't need backup. Garrus woke up early and left the ship to head to the hospital, feeling as though he had to make his presence known. He didn't want Isa to come out all this way just to find an empty hospital bed in case her brother didn't have the credits to pay for his care. He didn't have much, considering the funds from working on his own were almost depleted, but he would pull any strings he could to make sure that the kid received the care he needed.

Huerta Memorial was the best on the Citadel, and for good reason. Highly trained medical staff, who dabbled in research and new treatments on the whim, was what caused him to transport Rai here. The receptionist let him know that the kid was awake, although slipping in and out of sleep due to the pain medication. He asked if he could have some time with him, and she buzzed him in.

His girlfriend wasn't there, which was surprising. She must have just stepped out to grab something to eat, or maybe back to work at whatever she was trying to accomplish on the Citadel. Garrus supposed he was just lucky that Isa's brother decided to take the execution job alone. If the both of them had stormed at him, he only would've recognized Rai's gun, and taken down anyone else. Although a woman in the Blue Suns uniform was uncommon in the first place, hence why she probably took another job elsewhere.

Wrapped up in bandages and hooked up to an IV, Rai seemed more vulnerable than he had when he was lying down in his own blood. He looked over Garrus once before slight recognition came over his features. It wasn't clear, seeing as how the turian did sort of haul him up when he was barely conscious.

Instead of a grateful introduction, or some sort of confused hello, the boy in front of him brought his features into a scowl. “Who the fuck are you?”

Garrus' mandibles twitched in amusement. “A friend of your sister's. We haven't met.”

His eyes shifted over to the door and he still seemed on guard. Made sense, considering his line of work. “Oh, yeah? And where is she now?”

“On her way here, from Omega.” He crossed his arms. “I called her as soon as I got news.”

“Fuck.” Rai brought his head back down to the pillow and winced from the unnecessary force he used. “She shouldn't have done that. I'm _fine._ ”

“You got a chest full of shrapnel and lost a lot of blood,” Garrus argued. “It's taken a lot of shifts between nurses to keep on eye on your vitals. She told me you were there undercover?”

Rai snorted. “My sister's always had a big mouth. What else did she say?”

“A lot. We're close. But is it true, then? You're not with the Suns any more?”

The human made a move, shifting the covers away. He brought the blanket down from his neck and continued to push it downward until the upper portion of his torso was exposed. Garrus ran his eyes over the thick, jagged scars that littered his collarbone. Raised edges, hard lines, marks that could've only been done by a knife and malicious intent. Near one of his pectorals was a small square bandage.

“Laser removal still hurts like a bitch,” Rai explained, not bothering to show the ghost of its presence. “They don't fuck around when you get it off. This is permanent, not that fucking acid wash they use during missions.”

Garrus made the equivalent of a sigh, shaking his head in a slow, deliberate pace. “You nearly got yourself killed. Why try to slip into their ranks?”

“Kept the uniform. Harkin's their best customer, so he's always doing something or another with 'em. I knew that he'd feel safer that way, especially with him being so paranoid since he started his business.”

“And who ordered the hit?”

He smirked in response. “Client discretion. Sorry. Besides, the job's unfinished.”

“I can give you details concerning his arrest and when he'll be left unattended,” Garrus offered. In another time or place, he would have stared a mercenary in the eye and killed them with no regret, but Harkin needed to die. With him gone, the Blue Suns' operations would falter, their people exposed. Easier for the rest of the C-Sec collective to bust their deals and not worry about criminals escaping. Plus, Shepard wasn't here to stop him, and he was still undecided about his feelings concerning Sidonis' free pass. “But once that job is over, you need to rethink your career choice.”

“Sure you're not a pig?” he asked flatly. “You sure oink at me like one. I'm not your mark, I'm not a confused kid. This is what I need to do to survive.”

“Pretty good job so far. Landing yourself here. Do you have any idea who you tried to take down? That was Commander Shepard, a Council Spectre. If I wasn't there, she would have left you to bleed out or put another round in your head for good measure.”

Rai blinked. “Thought the N7 armor was a little much. I feel special.” After a moment of tense silence, he gave Garrus the once over. “How do you know my sister?”

“She helped me on Omega,” he replied quickly. “I won't go into detail.”

“Hmm.” He closed his eyes. “Thanks for the pep talk. I'm about to get another dose, so you might want to leave.”

Charming kid. He left the hospital room and felt more at ease. At least the kid knew his sister was on the way so he would stick around.

For now, Garrus needed to get something to eat. He was starving.

Apollo's Cafe on the Presidium was peaceful. Quiet. He grabbed a plate of food that was cheapest from the menu and settled at the nearest empty table. Couples were having breakfast together before work, most of them in light spirits. Of course they were, because that was the persona they took on to fit in here. It was about being pristine and polite, always following close to the rules and etiquette that the other races expected of you.

In response, he tore into his meal alone, hunched over his plate.

Ten minutes later, Tali slipped into the seat opposite of him. She stared at him while he continued to go to work on his food, frustration evident in the way he mistreated the condiments.

“How is he?” she finally asked, wary of her tone.

He swallowed his bite. “Fine. Has a smart mouth, though. Almost wanted to punch him to knock some sense into him. It's a shame he's such a hothead; his sister really cares for him. She dropped everything to get here. Not an easy feat alone.”

Tali crossed her arms. “She isn't alone. She has Kenn.”

“Look, I know about your thing with Shepard. And while that works for you, it isn't the same way with them. She's on her own, and it's been tough just trying to make it without her brother.”

The quarian went quiet for a moment, and she stared at him through her smoky mask. “I want to make something clear to you. Something I saw. When we were at Kenn's shop, while we turned to leave, I glanced back at them. She was adjusting his antibiotic coils, Garrus. You know the fasteners we have in the back that attaches our helmets to our suits? Those are incredibly important to us, their maintenance and upkeep the line between life and death. We find ways to adjust them ourselves, as our suits are a part of us, and any wrong move could mean a malfunction. It is a _very_ delicate process. Now, when a quarian entrusts someone else to do it, it essentially means that they trust that person with their life. That isn't what a roommate does. It isn't what a friend, best friend, or sibling does. That is reserved for lovers only, and only when the intimacy is implicit. Regardless of your perception of her feelings for _him,_ he loves her.”

Garrus stopped in mid-bite. He pushed the plate away from him, appetite gone. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Because every time I bring it up, you get defensive about it. What is it that bothers you so much about the possibility?”

“You don't understand, Tali. The man who was ready to spend his _life_ with her died, just a couple of days before Shepard saved my ass on Omega. It wasn't a perfect relationship, but he wanted it. And he needed her. He died telling me how much he cared for her, and even if she wasn't aware of the extent, for her to move on so quickly after his death...it, it...” He struggled to find the right words.

Tali let him flounder a bit before leaning in. The bioluminescence of her eyes were knowing and warm. “His death, Garrus? Or yours?”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in my most recent pt of me2 i let garrus kill sidonis after i'd warned him about everything
> 
> and he fucking accepted it? like he genuinely seemed grateful he wouldn't be suffering any more?
> 
> that was unexpected and really hard to stomach


	34. Paradigm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He could barely gather his thoughts, let alone organize them.

Shore leave.

Garrus knew it was for his benefit. Shepard hid behind the order by babbling on about calming nerves and letting the rest of the crew relax after so much stress. She claimed that Thane needed time with his son and it wouldn't be right to leave right when they had such a rough night. Attempted murder and Bailey overlooked it with a persuasive alternative from Shepard herself. Because no one could debate with the commander when she had her mind set on things; a silver tongue and an endless amount of charisma ensured that.

He didn't feel like getting off the ship, though. It bothered him what happened at the Presidium, and he wanted to work to take his mind off things. In any other circumstance, it might've worked, except that he had been trying to optimize the new cannon for hours now with little change. His math was always off by a fraction which completely mucked up the rest of his calculations. Shepard had ordered its installation as soon as Garrus suggested it, but it wasn't as big of a distraction as he'd hoped.

He couldn't keep mulling over Tali's words. It made him feel...he couldn't even name the emotion. It settled deep in his gut and made him nervous, though. The finality in her voice once she spoke her piece and left, it was...hard to come to terms with. He wasn't even sure he could handle it.

He decided, after a few hours of serious consideration, that Shepard did the right thing in letting him spare Sidonis. He didn't want to become so enraptured in revenge when he knew that not everyone could be as strong as he was. In the turian military, Garrus would have been held responsible for Sidonis' actions because he was the acting commander. He let the other turian screw over his whole team, but there was nothing that he could've done to prevent it. Even if he had somehow blown off the request and stayed at the base, chances are he would've been gunned down with the rest of them. Then who would've watched Shepard's back now?

Gray. In a world where he wanted things defined, black and white, Shepard showed him that there was more to it. As a Spectre, Shepard had the power to make these decisions without the weight of the Council on her back. She was able to create her own sense of justice and order. Garrus always thought that if he had that shot, he would do good for the people by not letting the rules slow him down. But Shepard reminded him that there wasn't just life and execution. There were people with stories and hardships, emotions, feelings, pressure. Sidonis was weak, but Garrus was better than that. He wouldn't let what Sidonis did go. He would never forget. But he could let the bastard turn himself in to C-Sec and live with his guilt for the next hundred years.

The battery opened and he stiffened. Definitely not Shepard.

“Um...are you busy?”

He kept his back to the quarian, typing more numbers onto the interface. “Look, I have a lot to catch up on--”

“Garrus.” She stepped forward and placed herself next to him, staring pointedly despite the fact that he was ignoring her. “I'm sorry. I was out of line.”

He hesitated. “No. You weren't.” After closing down the program, he wheeled around to meet her face to face. “What you said, was just...confusing.”

“I can't sit here and make decisions for you,” Tali wrung her hands, a staple characteristic she showed under pressure. “I just want to get you to understand. There's something else there, isn't there? The way you talk about her, there has to be.”

The turian rested his hands on the edge of his work surface, clenching them tight. “I'm not like you, Tali. I don't have a human fetish.”

“And I do?” Her voice was filled to the brim with mischievousness. “I don't have a thing for humans. I have a thing for _Shepard._ Her being human is just a part of who she is. Her personality, the way she treats others, the decisions she makes – that's what's important. Not what species she is. Let me ask you a question: if Isa was turian, would you date her then?”

He squashed the embarrassment that crept to his subvocals, ashamed of the way she was drilling him. “You know I would.”

“Wrong.” She shifted so he met her gaze again. “If she was a turian, she wouldn't be Isa. If she had been born of your race, the circumstances would have completely shifted. All that she is now, all that she's dealt with from her past and her experiences, is what makes her...well, _her._ Saying that you would date her only if she was your species is an insult to her. Because being human is what shaped her in the first place. Shepard dated Liara, but does that mean she has an asari fetish? Obviously not, since she's with me now. She doesn't care about _what_ I am, but _who_. That's the point. These feelings you may or may not have are about her, as a person, not her body. We both know you're not that shallow.”

He sighed in frustration. “I don't even know where to begin. It's all new territory for me. How do you even overlook something like that?”

“If you want to make it work, you will. If asari can make it with any race in the galaxy, without being weirded out by body differences, let alone chirality, then so can you. It isn't about how she looks. You care for her. The mission isn't going on forever, and we both know there's a good chance we won't come back. So you can sit in here and mope, while she is on this very station, or you can try to express yourself to her. Judging by the way she was _looking_ at you, you know how she feels about you. Humans don't show that much concern when they're not interested. Trust me, body language expert, remember?”

“You said so yourself,” he argued, “she has Kenn now. I ignored all of her advances when I was doing my work on Omega. I didn't even know she felt that way until I really thought about it.”

Tali laughed. “That's because you are incredibly dense when it comes to romance. Do I need to remind you how you thought that Shepard was literally talking about the beauty of the drive core last time we were planetside? I hate to say it, but it's a flaw of yours. That and how...awkward you get when we even mention things like this. The fact is, feelings like the ones she had...how deep they ran...they don't just disappear. Two years or not.”

The confidence she exuded seemed to wane, and she looked elsewhere. “Liara wasn't the only one who felt that way about Shepard on the SR-1, you know. She was just so much more forward about it.”

Garrus stared at her, the whirs in his brain starting up with a bit of prodding. “Oh. _Oh._ Really? Huh. I didn't notice.”

“Because it was too subtle and flew right over your head,” she shot back. “A little too downplayed so that _she_ didn't even catch on. Which is why after she died, after she helped me on the flotilla, I knew I had to get it out somehow. This is your chance. You know she'll be here in the next six to twelve hours or so. You know where she'll be. So practice what you're going to say, and get out of this damn battery, you silly bosh'tet.”

 Isa never messaged him to say when she'd arrive, but Tali was right. The first place she was going to was the hospital. He figured that he would get there first and if she wasn't there, try to get her brother to let his sister know that he wanted to meet her. Judging by Rai's reaction to his presence, though, he didn't feel that it was likely. Still, it didn't hurt to try. He didn't want to stand around the docks like an idiot and hope to catch a transmission of her ship – because he didn't even know what sort of transport she caught in order to get here.

His mind was jumbled in terms of what he wanted to say. What he would do. She had no idea what sort of revelations he'd been through in the past couple of days. Her world was running on course, up until he called her that night and jarred her enough to make the trip out here. He wanted to make this work.

And that thought terrified him.

She was important. After all she'd done to help the squad when they were alive...he knew he could trust her. It wasn't until the mission he dragged Shepard on that he realized that. How much of an impact she made on him. It was a screwed up galaxy. He'd seen ten men die because of one's cowardice. He heard about children slaughtered and elderly beaten up in the streets, teenagers forcefully addicted to drugs to turn them in to slavers. Through all of that, that filth, he met someone who was still good. Wholesome. He knew she wasn't perfect, not by a long shot, but any sliver of light in this dark place was welcome.

He signed in at the desk for the second time and felt lighter. Like the weight off his shoulders had been ripped off uncomfortably by one of his closest friends. He had done absolutely no research, was ninety-nine percent positive he would offend her somehow, and was rushing in blind. Something that Shepard would have done with grace, as she was a vanguard, but Garrus was a goddamned sniper. He liked to take in his surroundings and scope out the targets, not just charge in without thinking twice.

Fuck, maybe this was a bad idea.

Inside, Rai was conscious. Good start. The boy was still hooked up and bedridden; considering the severity of his wounds, it made perfect sense. The drugs weren't being pumped into his system, as shown by his short glance at the monitor, which meant that his pain was lessened as well.

“Oh. You again. What was your name?”

“Garrus,” he replied quickly. “I know who you are. She mentioned you by name.”

“No nickname?” he replied dryly. “I would've thought she'd be mean like that.”

“What?”

“You don't know her at all. She's kind of a bitch.” He shifted in his bed. “Anyway, I should be thanking you. For looking out for her on Omega. She mentioned she'd met somebody, but I just assumed it was a human.”

His confidence dwindled. “Does it...bother you?”

“I couldn't care less. You made her happy, who cares if you're a giant lizard-bird?” He peered over Garrus' shoulder, toward the doorway. “Move.”

Garrus stepped to the side, away from the only entrance, and his stomach twisted into a knot when the woman he'd been looking for swept into the room. She hadn't seen him, seeing as how he was stuck to the wall, but this was better. Isa rushed toward the bed and immediately wrapped her arms around her brother's head, plopping a soppy kiss on the top of his head. Her fingers raked across his scalp and she hugged him to her chest for a good minute or two.

“You idiot,” she began, her voice trembling. “What the FUCK were you thinking?”

“I was getting paid.”

“Don't try to sugarcoat this!” She stepped back and gave him the once over. “Do you have any idea how worried I was? When you told me about your charge, I didn't think you were going to put yourself in their fucking armor and risk your life like this! What is _wrong_ with you? Do you have _any_ idea what I had to do in order to get here? I lost my job because I needed at least a week in advance to take any time off, the credits I spent to book a safe ship was intended for more medical supplies at the local clinic, and I--”

He spoke over her, intimidation rampant in both his body language and tone. “Hey. HEY. Did I ask you to come down here? No. I was fine. Your little turian buddy decided for you that it was important enough to drag your ass to the Citadel, not me.”

“Because I'm the only one who could come. You know Mom and Dad couldn't make it even if they wanted to. I'm your sister, Rai. I know we don't agree on a lot of things, but of course I'm going to come when you need me. I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

She sighed and ran her fingers through her hair. “Do you need anything? A nurse? Food? Water? I can grab something for you outside.”

“I'm cool. But you might want to get your friend out of here. He's been creeping around for the past ten minutes.”

Isa whipped around and locked eyes with him. He shifted. Oh. Awkward. It didn't help that a flush went to her cheeks and she stammered out some sort of apology to him. He wasn't listening, just surveying her switch in demeanor. It was...funny, actually, how flustered she was with her brother. He'd never heard her go off like that, never heard her raise her voice to such a tone thick with passion.

Garrus followed her out of the hospital room and her shoulders slumped. “I'm so embarrassed. Sorry you had to see that, I didn't even know you were here. Why are you still on the Citadel?”

“Shepard gave us a few days of shore leave. I wanted to...be here, when you came. Can we take a walk?”

She glanced at the hospital room door, watching as her brother's girlfriend entered in her stead. “That's fine. Where to?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tali is the number one wingman tbh


	35. Confession

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This was it. Do or die. Spirits, a suicide mission seemed like a welcome distraction compared to this.

“Rai's an asshole,” she started, sighing into her hands. “But he's still my only brother. Thank you for calling me on the comm. Even if he's better now, I would've never forgiven myself if I found out later that he died, and I wasn't there. I know it wasn't your fault that Commander Shepard shot him. It was his own damn fault for putting himself into such a stupid plan. I wish I had a way to repay you.”

Garrus glanced at her. Body hunched into a tight ball, face buried. She was vulnerable. “You don't need to thank me,” he ground out, shaking her from the pity party she had going on. “You've done a lot for me.”

“Not lately. I wish I had. I'm glad that you took care of your business with Fade. Did you ever...find Sidonis?”

“Shepard convinced me to spare him. I was so ready to take the shot, but I...I couldn't. If you heard him, you would've done the same. Despite everything he did, he regretted it all. I heard he turned himself into C-Sec for it. I just wanted to do right by my men.”

She took his hand into hers and laced her fingers with his. It was identical to the reaction he'd received the night they celebrated him killing off the krogan slaver who was out for her blood. The way that she entangled them without any effort...it made his chest tighten.

“Every one of them knew the risks. They understood how much they put on the line, and they still agreed to follow you. If you had the chance to talk with any of them on their deathbed, aside from Ripper and Weaver, they would've told you so. And, speaking of Ripper, not once did he voice any ill will toward you about it. If he felt that way, it would've come out.”

Garrus chuckled, still not totally at ease. “I think he was a little more preoccupied with his message to you. You did get it, right?”

“Yes. It was...” She laughed half-heartedly. “Unexpected. I wish we had more time together. But when he came to me with that proposition, at Zen District, I sort of...panicked. I had other plans. Looking back on it, it wasn't right of me to think that I could somehow jumpstart them and ignore his advances. If I'd given him a chance, maybe...”

“He knew that it was a long shot. But he was willing to wait. Those were his conditions. If he wanted you to give in right away, he would've abandoned the idea a long time ago.”

“I guess so.”

Isa settled more on the bench and overlooked the view. Garrus knew that he hated this place, because of his disingenuous it was, but the serenity it brought to her was reflected in his own face. He felt like an idiot for not having this reaction earlier in their friendship. She had always been so stable and supportive. Now he had to return the favor.

“I'm really not good with this sort of thing, but I...needed to talk to you about something.” He flinched under her brief stare before she returned her attention to the horizon in front of them. He almost felt sick.

“These past two years, working with you, it's been...great. More than that, really. Out of my entire squad, you're the only one left, aside from Sidonis, and he's still a traitor in my eyes. I know now how you...felt. I mean, about me. I guess I never thought about it as a possibility because of the turian-human issue, but after a little bit of...thinking, I wanted to say that I want something more. I want what you did. Do, maybe? I know I...ah, have crappy timing, considering I'm on a suicide mission and all, but that makes it all the more important. I can't go off to the Collector homeworld knowing I didn't get to tell you. And I know, damn I know, about your thing with Kenn. I know I can't ask you to break up with him for me. It's selfish, and frankly, I don't deserve it. So all I can do is lay it out there.”

His mandibles splayed from his face and clicked. He tried to find something to do with his hands and nothing seemed to work. If she were turian, she would have laughed right in his face because of his blatant flustered undertones. But she wasn't. She was human. And though he was positive that his emotional distress was apparent from his voice and body language, she wasn't that cruel.

Not by a long shot.

Her eyes caught with his and he knew they were brimming with emotion. He just couldn't place what. He wished he had Tali's talent in reading her. It didn't make it any easier that her lips were neither down nor up, a lack of a smile or frown making things twice as confusing.

Isa let out a shaky breath. “Can we make up for lost time, then?”

Relief washed over him. The giddiness of her response settled deep into his bones and he angled himself toward her, hand resting on her jaw. He ran his thumb along her cheek and chin before tilting his head. He pressed his mouth plates to her lips and kissed her. The same way she had done all those months ago in a last-ditch effort to show her feelings. Her back arched and she met him halfway, eyes closed, arm slipping around his neck and fingers brushing against the spot underneath his fringe.

He shivered at her touch and was painfully aware of the fact that she knew what she was doing. It explained her understanding of Ripper's colony emblems, the forehead touching, and her knowledge of tender, intimate zones on his body. This woman felt so much for him that she tried to learn as much about him and his culture as she could. He only hoped he could return the favor.

Her warm breath fanning across his face, they broke apart, just enough for him to press his forehead to hers with a turian grin. She looked at him head on now, no longer ashamed enough to avoid direct eye contact. He held her attention there before going in for a second kiss, tickled at the way her lips went swollen from it all.

“Garrus,” she breathed, voice husky. “Are you sure? This isn't about survivor guilt, is it? Is this what you really want?”

“More than anything.”

Her grip on his hand never faltered, even when they stopped themselves for a third try, both visibly bothered by the sudden rush of contact between them.

He cleared his throat out of embarrassment. He never was one for public displays of affection, and as a C-Sec officer he hated watching couples indulge when there were others around. Now he was the perpetrator. Out of curiosity, he glanced over his shoulder to see if anyone was watching. They were in a secluded spot in the park, but damn it all if there wasn't an asari on a stroll who had witnessed the whole thing, judging by the look of surprise on her face. He turned his back from the peeping tom and coughed into his hand.

“Uh, maybe we should...put a hold on this. For later, I mean.”

“Right.” She retrieved her hand from his. “I really do need to spend more time with Rai. It's been a long time since I've seen him.”

She made a move to get up and he mirrored her, unable to tear his eyes away. “We could, ah, catch up tonight? If you're up for it. I can try to find somewhere for us to eat dinner. No pressure, though, I'm sure it's been a long...trip.”

Isa lifted a brow at him and put on a half-smile, amused at his sudden self-consciousness. “Sounds like fun. I'll ping you when visiting hours are over.”

“I'll stop by and we can walk there. Or take a skycar. I don't really know where I'm going right now, but I will by tonight.” He realized that the more she stared at him, the more he babbled on. Spirits, this was a disaster. “So I will...message you then. When I'm ready. What you're wearing is...perfect, nothing fancy. Unless you want it to be?”

Now she was trying so hard not to laugh. “I'd rather keep it quiet. Just because I am a little tired.”

“Yeah. Definitely.”

She was merciful enough to leave first, considering he would've ended up walking away backwards, still stammering on what to say next if he was the one trying to escape the situation. He really thought he was smoother than that, but apparently not. At least she seemed to find it endearing, judging by the dimple in her cheek that kept appearing every time he opened his mouth. She waved back at him once she got to the crossroads. He stood there, fists at his sides, clenching and opening them.

He needed to find Shepard. Fast.

His commander and Tali were shopping on Zakera Ward after he messaged them to find out where they were at. He wasn't sure what they were doing there, but hadn't bothered to ask. The two were happy in perusing the wares together. If anyone else was to glance over at the scene, they wouldn't have been able to guess that the two were involved with each other. No holding hands, no touches or brushes. Garrus was amazed at how professional they could act, but he supposed that they had a lot of practice. Tali kept her feelings on the SR-1 hidden well, and when Shepard and Liara were dating, they never once faltered on missions. Even on shore leave they both seemed to get that they shouldn't act like lovesick teenagers, which made this all the more humiliating for him.

“I take it the reunion went well?” Tali immediately asked.

He looked at her, bewildered. “How did you...”

“Why else would you want to see us and run over like it was an emergency?” She really did a great job in putting emotion into her voice. “Spill it.”

“Maybe some other time. Look, Shepard, I really need your advice.”

Shepard chuckled under her breath. “Fine. Tali, meet you at Dark Star?”

“I'll be sure to save you a seat.”

She broke away from the two and Shepard gestured Garrus to follow her. They went toward one of the stores and pretended to go through the wares on display. The clerk was busy with an extremely picky human couple, so he wasn't about to eavesdrop. And this way there was no awkwardness of finding somewhere stationary. Walking and talking put them both in a more comfortable mood.

“What's the problem?”

“I'm going in unarmed, essentially,” Garrus all but blurted, exasperated. “She's done a lot of research on turians. I know next to nothing on human women. If I had more time I could go to the extranet and gather some data, but I don't like the idea of just running into this with my gun half-cocked. This is important. Like a suicide run. You don't just storm in and charge, you have to plan these things out, or the consequences are dire. If I can't make this work, it's all downhill from here.”

Shepard grinned at him. “I think you're overthinking this. She agreed to go out with you, right? What's the plan?”

“Dinner, just picking up something. But I want to talk, alone, and there aren't really a lot of places around that are private.”

“So get a room.”

He looked the other way, embarrassed. “Vigilante funds are a little tight right now.”

“Cerberus claims not to be xenophobic, did you know that?” Shepard scrolled through the inventory at one of the terminals near the counter, expression bored. “In good faith, they've extended a helping hand toward their star gunnery officer for his outstanding performance on the mission to save humanity from extinction. A nice sum of credits to sweeten the deal and prove how important cross-species relations are to them.” She nodded to Garrus' omnitool hand. “Your balance should be updated.”

Garrus brought up the interface and checked his bank statement. It enough that he felt humbled. “I...”

“Joker's idea. Something about a stick up your ass that needed to be loosened up. Isa seems to be doing a great job.” She laughed. “Have _fun_ , Garrus. And if I catch you on the _Normandy_ any time before we ship out, you're on cleaning duty for a week. That's an order.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wink wonk
> 
> shepard is the #2 wingman


	36. Assumptions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This could be FUBAR. Think positive, Garrus.

Four hours of extensive extranet research later, Garrus felt more terrified than ever.

Pornography was misleading and exaggerated. The obvious plastic surgery and over the top acting disturbed him more than anything. How did humans find it arousing at all? Even from an intellectual standpoint, he couldn't see through his own cringing. Was this what it was like when people researched turian videos? Spirits. The medical websites he went to had see-through diagrams, which were just a little bit more invasive than he would've liked. All he needed was some sort of non-sarcastic, non-sexist articles on dealing with human women.

Too much to ask for? Decidedly so.

He wished he had something specific to her. He wanted a crash course on her body, not a random woman selected by misogynistic assholes who tried to shove the standard of beauty down his throat. Isa was already self-conscious. He didn't want to hold her to anyone else. He was attracted to her, not other humans. That was evident in his disturbed reaction to almost everything he found. But thinking back to that kiss, and the smoldering way she looked at him when she pulled away....

Whew. Okay.

The hotel room he booked was just for a couple of nights. It was nice. A lot bigger than the apartment he used to have on the Citadel. The perfect atmosphere to unwind together. In whatever way she wanted. He just wanted to be with her until they left the station.

In the middle of him going over the room again, his omnitool pinged.

_G: visiting hours are over. Looking forward to seeing you. -E_

He typed back a quick response and left, shutting the door behind him. It would take about ten minutes to get there. He already found a food stand for them to pick something up. Dextro and levo choices, go figure. Finding something like that on the Citadel wasn't uncommon, considering the abundant amount of relationships between asari and turians. Almost all of the turian officers he worked with during his C-Sec days tried to hook up with some of the asari residents. He never really understood the obsession with their species.

He read up on a few sites that typically it was considered culturally appropriate to bring a gift. Flowers and chocolate, two completely unrelated gifts that confused the hell out of him. But he didn't want to make a mistake, so he decided he would opt out of that. If she was disappointed, which he knew she wouldn't be, he could always feign misunderstanding.

Isa stood outside of the main door to the hospital off the elevator. She seemed to be observing the people around in the waiting room, the staff ushering people out. He caught her line of sight from across the room and she broke out into a smile, bag slung over her shoulder.

“You...don't have a place for that, do you? Need me to carry it?”

“It's okay. Not heavy, I packed light. So, you know the Citadel well, considering you used to work here. Where to?”

He watched as she stepped in line with him, and he slowed his pace, considering their difference in leg length. She wasn't short by human standards, probably average. It was still a little funny to look down at the top of her head when she wasn't glancing up at him. “I know a couple of dual chirality restaurants. But I figured we could just grab something to go and head back to my place.”

“You still have an apartment here?”

“Ah, no. Shepard was nice enough to get us a hotel room. Somewhere to sleep besides the waiting room in the hospital, right?”

She laughed. “Much better. I bet the beds are decent enough, too, my place in Omega isn't exactly comfortable. A mattress on the ground compared to a luxury hotel? I'd take that deal any day.”

They had to take the transit, but she put in half for it. When he tried to suggest otherwise, she stopped him with an authoritative hand pressed against his chest. He knew he shouldn't have listened to those high and mighty authors on the extranet; she didn't expect him to foot all the bills. She even made him promise to thank Shepard on her behalf, considering she was flattered he made the hotel room possible.

On the walk to the food stand, she seemed mesmerized by the businesses around them. The neon lights, the upbeat people, the high class air that seemed to circulate the room. It was the complete opposite of Omega, and she had been living there for more than two years or so. She must have forgotten what it was like and the Citadel was considered the lap of luxury. People walked past her in the latest fashion trends, long gowns and dresses, elegant forms and superiority laced in their gait. Her eyes traveled along from each window to the next, and her breath caught when a few local celebrities went past, a few camera drones following from the paparazzi.

Garrus was more concerned about security issues. He glanced around the room and didn't see anyone suspicious, and the officers stationed at their posts gave him a nod of recognition. He figured that he had his face plastered on a board somewhere because of his infamous reputation. Ditching the station twice in order to pursue bigger and better things didn't exactly leave his commanding officers in good spirits; he assumed the majority of them used him as an example of how not to do things.

There was a bit of a line when they showed up. She shifted her weight with the bag strapped along her shoulder. “Hmm...is it true that only turian women can sing?”

He barked out a laugh. “That's really what you want to know?”

“Curious.”

“No, that's a stereotype. Some of us men can sing, though our vocal range is more limited than theirs. Is it true that...human children are more inclined to learn a new language the younger they are?”

“Very much so. A couple of classmates of mine were put into translator jobs because their parents taught them several languages without translators installed. It helped them tweak the models we have now, and update our current vocabulary.”

They both stepped forward, trying not to get too close to the hanar in front of them.

“Do turians form their fringe after birth, or before?”

“You know it's after. I can imagine beforehand would get a little messy. On Earth, do reptiles called alligators really live beneath the streets in your sewage systems?”

Just a few more customers now. At least she was having a good time.

“That is a very, very old myth. No. Is it true that turians can't juggle?”

“What?” He looked at her to see if she was joking. It was hard to tell with that mischievous expression on her face. “As far as I know? Yes. Though we do have a severe lack of magicians and street peddlers for me to test that theory. Have humans ever ridden dogs into battle before?”

She giggled. “We domesticated them from wolves, and they were meant to serve as companions and protectors, not methods of transportation.”

“So maybe.”

They got to the counter and, completely distracted by her random queries, he had no idea what he wanted to order. The clerk in front of him glared until he picked something at random, not too concerned about what was for dinner. It was the company that was important.

They stayed away from the extreme attractions of the food district, wandering back to the transit station. The crowds thinned the further they got. Both of them were starving but wanted to wait until they could sit down and eat together, so they continued their game. It was innocent enough, until he couldn't help but slyly sneak a question of his own personal interest in there.

“Can humans really get off on voices alone?”

“Possibly. Though, a little help wouldn't hurt. Why?”

He purred down at her, feeling more confident now at her tentative attitude. “Well, I do remember a certain list of compliments you gave me. Apparently, voices are considered an attractive trait to humans. I had no idea.”

She swallowed, neck turning a darker shade than before. “Are all turians this forward about their sexual interests?”

They stopped at the transit and hit the call button, him looming over her with the same power stance that Ripper used with her all that time ago. “Definitely. Is it true that human women aren't biologically wired to reach orgasm from penetration alone?”

Isa tore her gaze from him, biting down on her lower lip. Her pace slowed to a stop and she lingered in the middle of the walkway. “Garrus,” she whispered.

“Come on, the food's getting cold.”

She huffed a bit, gripping her food bag tighter to her chest. “Yes,” she said finally. “Most of what contributes to our orgasm is the feeling of intimacy or stimulation of our...you know. A few rare, lucky women might be able to, but the mass majority don't. Myself included.”

“Really? That's a shame.”

The ride to the hotel was quiet, aside from the faint hum of the car, the whir of traffic outside, and the soft beats of the radio between them. He knew that he shouldn't tease her any more, so he cut their game short. Besides, he never wanted to make her uncomfortable. He wanted her to be more open about things with him.

He slipped in the card into the door and opened it up, both of them filing inside. She inhaled in wonder and made a beeline for the table to drop off all her bags. Once her arms were empty, she wheeled around and launched herself onto the bed, stomach down, face buried in the comforter. Her shoulders sagged and he knew it was from relief.

Garrus opened up his bag and reached down to grab a piece, pushing it into his mouth. “Hmm. Not bad.”

She laughed, the sound muffled in the pillow, and rolled onto her side. “Can you bring mine over, too?”

Both of them posted up on the bed, side by side. He used a pillow to prop himself up and they turned on the TV. Nothing was on but terrible B-rated movies, though she didn't seem to mind. She was happy in enjoying her meal and little else.

In a couple of hours, it felt like old times. Back when they were at the base on Omega, when the two of them would sit in front of the big screen and laugh about things. How she teased him about asari coupling with turians. Relaxing after a mission from her intel and his strategy, savoring the downtime where the threat of criminals wasn't hanging over their heads at that very moment. He was comfortable. Happy, even. It was a shame that this wasn't permanent.

He stole a glance at her only to see her doing the same. She averted her eyes when he caught her gaze, and it drew a chuckle out of him. “Something wrong?”

“Shepard didn't give you a room so we could waste our only time together.”

His mandibles went slack. “I didn't want to, ah, assume...”

She picked herself up from the relaxed position she had and rested on her knees, leaning forward. “Assume away.”

Garrus' chest rumbled with nervous chuckles, and he reached down to stroke her wrist. “Good. I think we've both waited long enough.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next chapter's totally skippable if ya know what i mean


	37. Relief

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He knew she wanted it. He just wasn't sure she understood how much he did, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as i said, this chapter is totally skippable and not really that important if you're not interested

Fuck.

Shit.

Damn.

Garrus leaned back on his hands and let out a satisfied hum through clenched teeth. In a crisp hotel room on the Citadel with a naked human settled in his lap, lips attached to his neck. Her lips fastened against the more sensitive scales, tongue dragging along his mandibles. It was wet. Warm. And _oh so good_. She knew what she was doing. She did her research. How long ago did she read up on turian erogenous zones in order to bring him to a purring mess? Her blunt teeth grazed along the span of his throat, open-mouthed kisses following suit. He gripped the sheets between his talons and heard a keening come from his subvocals, his groin plates shifting. It didn't help that her weight against his torso was comfortable, despite the soft span of skin of her stomach and breasts. Her knees rested on either side of his hips and the wet heat of the seam of her thighs just ghosted over his own.

He felt himself ease out, cock slipping out of its sheath, trapped between his plates and the warmth of her belly. Every time she moved, shifting, he stifled a groan. The pressure of her occasional grinding and the unrelenting, sensual attention she was giving his neck...it was too much. He wanted her to stop, to give him some air, but each time he opened his mouth he just ended up muttering her name. And hearing that only encouraged her to continue, creating a deliciously cruel cycle.

And then—oh.

Ooh. Mmm.

Right there, right thheeerreee...

His hips jerked and she tore an orgasm out of him. He wrapped an arm around her back to pull her in close, cock pinned when he spilled himself onto her. Every jerk and twitch pumped out more sticky semen and she didn't seem surprised. In fact, she pushed herself more into him, drawing out the process until he was shuddering underneath her. He tipped his head back and his mandibles splayed from his face, the dreamlike buzz enveloping his senses. The world went fuzzy until she stopped lavishing his weak spot with more attention than he'd ever received. Ever.

“I'm ah, sorry,” he sputtered when she drew back, glancing down at the space below her breasts. It was a mix of thick globs and smeared iridescent strands that trailed down to her hips.

She dragged a finger down and coated her finger, rubbing her thumb and index together to survey the texture. Without any warning, she stuck it into her mouth and sucked it off before pulling it out with an audible pop. Her tongue dragged along her lips and she swallowed.

He let out a rumbling laugh in response, hand finding hers. “I take it that's what you wanted?”

“I'm not telling you how long.” She moved back to rest on his lap, not bothered by the throbbing organ between them. “I'm just trying to take things slow. We have all night.”

“Hm...” He traced her shoulder and ran his talons down her breasts, thumbing the nipple. “Sensitive?”

“Mine are kind of big, so not really. Still feels nice, though.” Her breath hitched in response when he rolled it into a hard nub, ghosting over the areola as well. “Not too squishy, are they? Most women's are softer, but mine don't feel like they should. Not smooth...”

Garrus ignored her self-depreciating words and continued to explore. “Trust me, I have no idea what I'm supposed to be expecting. So you're setting the standard. Not that I'll ever have anyone else to compare you to.”

With one hand preoccupied, he took the plunge and wrapped his tongue along the other nipple, dragging it across her skin. She sucked in a breath and her body tensed, obviously not used to so much stimuli. He kept his gentle pace, making lazy circles, flicking at the tip. Slowly, one by one, her muscles relaxed in his touch, and she stopped herself from freezing at any of his touches. It was apparent that no one had been this patient with her, as coaxing as he was. It was in her gaze, an uncertain fear that blossomed when he made eye contact with her.

“Do you trust me?” he whispered against her, making her sigh.

“Yes,” she murmured in response. “I do.”

He abandoned his hand that was massaging her breast and slipped it between her legs. He saw the diagrams, he read the advice, and though that knowledge was helpful, he didn't want to rely on others' experiences solely. So he brushed his thumb along the different textures, trying to decipher her expression for what she liked the most. She flinched when he skated his knuckle past a small nub higher up, and decided that by the switch in her breathing, she favored that the most.

“Not too much, just around it,” she moaned. “Oh, God.”

Hearing her make those noises, and knowing that he was the cause, only made it that much more rewarding. He did as she asked, her hand guiding him in rubbing at the spot that caused her thighs to squeeze together and shake. He busied his thumb with her clit and slipped his smallest finger into her, experimentally. The ring of muscles sucked him in deep, clenching tighter the further down he went.

Whoa.

“What?” she asked, now conscious from her euphoric ride. Whoops, he must have said that last part out loud.

“Nothing, you're just...different. So...slippery. I guess I ah, know what they mean about women getting wet...”

“Garrus, stop talking. You're going to make me come.”

Now that was interesting. He hadn't thought about that when he made fun of her earlier. But the more he played with the idea, the more he liked it. So he stopped lapping on her breast and slid up to rest his mouth toward the shell of her ear.

“So what's the problem? I want you to. Let me see it.”

She bore down on him and cried out. She tried to squirm away from him, but he needed this. He needed her to let go, in his arms. He read up that human women were never spent quite like their male counterparts, which was a damn shame. Another difference between humans and turians he wanted to bridge. He'd never left any of his lovers unsatisfied, and wasn't about to start now.

“How close are you? Don't hold back. Just a little...more...”

He dragged his tongue behind her ear and she finally, finally came undone. Her body wracked with quick, short jerks, ripples of pleasure easing up and sending her into oblivion. He watched her lashes flutter and her eyes close, mouth opened up into an 'O'. Watching the tension ease away brought a smile to his face, and he let her ride it out. It wasn't as intense as he would've thought, no wild screams or thrashing. Just a quiet release that made him eager for round two. He bet that he would feel better than his hand.

She kissed his brow plate and ran her hand along his bandaged side, fingertips brushing along the rough surface. “Is it weird yet?”

“Not even close.”

Isa peppered his good side with kisses. “I would do the same on the scars, but it still makes me really wary. I don't want to hurt you. Mm, but...”

She glanced down between his legs and noticed his obvious show of enthusiasm. Her hand ghosted along the tip and it twitched, slicking even more at her touch. He never thought that her soft, five-fingered hands would've had this much of an effect on him, but it did. The pads of her fingers encompassing him and traveling its length was driving him crazy. She was always gentle with him, always making sure that he wasn't in pain or uncomfortable.

“I think I can get one more out of you,” he muttered.

He busied himself between her legs, adamant in making it so. He wanted every nerve of hers to be fried, to draw her out and let her snap so that the stresses of everything that happened would go away. Omega, the attack on the base, her brother's injuries...he put all of that negative energy into his motivation for making her feel good about herself for once. He earned another set of gasps and his name, her hands scabbing at his carapace, legs drawn up when she came down from her high. And he watched it unfold with a sense of pride.

“Okay,” she looked up at him, flushed, tugging him toward her.

Interspecies relations: confirmed.

Because with her hair fanning the pillow, her bare breasts pressed against his chest, an expanse of tanned skin ready to be touched, imperfections and all, the inherent trust laced in her eyes for him, and lips parted when he bent down to gain just one more kiss, he was ready. Ready to take the plunge in engaging in something he never would have dreamed of.

There wouldn't be another. Tali was right; his interest wasn't in humans, it was in her. The loyalty she held to him after all they'd been through, the risks she took in sharing information, the memories of bonding with him and his squad...it was enough. Enough to bridge the gap of weirdness that he would have predicted months ago if someone asked him what he thought about this very moment with her.

He sank into her and exhaled, long, drawn out. He knew that she was wet, and warm, but she was so impossibly _tight_. It was unyielding, her body trying to accommodate him, stretching to his shape, clamping down and sending spikes of pleasure to his brain. He hovered over her and lowered himself just enough to bury his face in the crook of her neck. His arms above her head, pinning her to the bed, hips rolling while she hooked them across his back to take him in deeper. Every stroke she met with a thrust upwards, matching his pace, slow, languid, powerful. Take our time, she'd said earlier, and she was always brilliant. There was no rush. No mission hanging over their heads as they fought for their lives. Just the fast-paced nightlife outside their window, going on with their errands, unaware of the intimate encounter between two people who wanted this.

He licked along her neck and hummed in happiness when she let out a contented sigh toward him. One hand splayed across his back and the other cupped the area behind his fringe, still consistent in her tries to make him feel good. And he did. The noises she was making, the way he buried in so easily without having to worry about whether she was into it. It was apparent in the way her body reacted. If he had any worries about her being attracted to him, it was squashed the minute she climbed on top of him and went for his weak spot. Here, caged beneath him, writhing and crying out, the sound of his plates slapping against her skin, the feeling of her trying to squeeze a release out of him, he didn't regret a thing.

He quickened his pace and went into short jerks, angling her for something deeper. More...what was the word humans used? Passionate. Mm. She curled her body inward and locked her knees against his waist, sending an involuntary shudder through him. A nice pressure on it, just hard enough for him to feel it past his plates, and not hard enough that it turned into pain. He whispered her name, letting his subvocals take over so that it wouldn't translate on purpose, intent on turning her into a bumbling mess.

Her light, breathy moans went deeper and he knew he won. She let out a drawn out cry, a series of 'oh' and cracks in her voice that spoke wonders for his ego. Finally. He did it. She no longer held it in and wasn't afraid to be loud, tossing her head back and the smell of her arousal intensifying. Shit. She was so close, and he needed her to come. He moved one of his arms down and placed it on her clit to seal the deal, matching his pace there with his thrusts.

She called out to her god one more time and he won. He beat the odds stacked against them despite everything that said this couldn't work. She let out a wracking half-sob, gripping him tight, locking him into position while she came. Her body clung to his for a few seconds and he savored each one, committing it to memory.

A few more thrusts when she was still in mid-high and he joined her, laughing shakily with relief. He poured it all into her and was glad there was just a thin membrane of rubber between them so she felt it too. Searing, white hot, zipping down his spine and down to his groin, wanting to fill her to the brim. And all the while she stroked his fringe and back, a lazy smile glued to her face. He couldn't place what it was, but his senses were heightened, and the high of the orgasm left him feeling completely drained, spent, boneless. The type of feeling he only ever accomplished before with a few more rounds and a lot more foreplay.

He collapsed on his elbows and caught her mouth once she beckoned him to it, feeling a bit bolder and adventurous with his tongue that she seemed to love so much. She sucked on the tip and flicked her own against it, moving her way to his damaged mandible and kissing the jagged edges.

When he finally caught his breath, and he had the strength to, he rolled over on his side, watching the heaving of her breasts while she tried to do the same. Her whole body was going to suffer for their tryst tomorrow, but at least she had oiled herself up well beforehand. From here he could already see the telltale signs of chafing on her thighs, but she swatted his hand away when he tried to touch it, insisting she was fine. The warmness in her tone made him think she appreciated the thought, though it was unnecessary.

“I know you'll be awake in a few hours, since turians don't sleep as much as humans do,” she managed in mid-yawn. “I rented a vid for you. Something to keep you busy while I'm being boring.” She laughed and nudged his shoulder. “Just promise you won't be creepy like Ripper and watch me while I sleep.”

He let out a noise of affection, undertones and all. “Not really how I expected our pillow talk to go. Bringing up nights with other men.”

“Stuff it, G.”

“Oh I did. You really seemed to...enjoy that.”

After a bit more banter, and some coaxing on her end, he wrapped her up in his arms, starting the vid while she drifted off. She was right; he was tired, but not enough to sleep. He'd stay up for a few more hours so he could at least drift off right before morning.

That way she wouldn't wake up alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so i wanted to make something clear: i feel like some people might read this and feel like, wtf? why so quickly???
> 
> a few things:
> 
> 1\. their intimacy and trust in each other is not new. they've known each other for years. whether garrus has been attracted all that time is unclear, but he is very much right now. 
> 
> 2\. isa knows what she's doing. any of his hesitations are definitely covered with her experience.
> 
> 3\. it is rushed because it has to be. they don't have the luxury of waiting any more. 
> 
> 4\. let my girl bone the turian ffs


	38. Afterglow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things settled into place. He never thought it would, but here they both were.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's my birthday nerds, so here's your chapter a little early!

“So? How was your night?”

Garrus stood up a little straighter, wary of his commander's sense of humor. “Is that a question typical of humans, or just you?”

“This is between friends. Come on, at least tell me something.”

“Never pegged you as a gossip, Shepard.” He held up the bag for emphasis. “I think me going out to pick up some breakfast is a good sign, though. If we're going to play this game, what'd you and Tali do?”

Cool as ever, the comment didn't even make her flinch. “I had a couple of drinks while she just sort of stared at the people dancing. I tried to convince her to go up with me, but she said she was embarrassed. Still not sure if it was for her benefit, or mine.” She smirked. “Anyway, one more day before we take off. If you have any last minute business, be sure to tie everything up. Or everyone. If you're into that.”

“Very funny. Look, I don't want to be late, so I'll see you tomorrow morning.”

He came back to the hotel room and, thankfully, managed not to wake Isa up. He supposed that he did have some skills as a notorious sniper after all. Who else would've been able to sneak in and out without detection? He headed toward the table and separated their meals, wondering how much longer she would sleep in.

His curiosity was answered about half an hour later when she finally stirred. She shifted a few times, rolling, and a flash of her thigh from the comforter caught his eye. She went on her stomach and buried her face in the pillow before stretching, letting out a series of very interesting noises. Humans were a bit strange, even more so with their morning rituals. He busied himself with the food to make it look like he was definitely not watching her, the joke she made last night still fresh in his head.

After a bit more wiggling to try to get herself comfortable, she gave up. She lifted herself from her hunched position and rubbed at her eyes. He hadn't seen her without her glasses this much before. She looked different. Not good or bad, just different. She reached for them on the nightstand and placed them on the bridge of her nose, letting out a sigh of frustration.

“I wish I could sleep in, but I can't. Not when breakfast smells so good.” She kept her position on the bed. “Is that what your research told you to do?”

“Caught me.” He brought it to the bed, sort of getting used to the idea of eating on the mattress and not at the table. Second time in the past eighteen hours or so. “Hungry?”

“Yeah.”

After a few moments of them watching TV and enjoying breakfast, Garrus ran his eyes over her. “Look, I have to admit, I bought you food to sort of glaze over what I'm about to say. I...think that you should stay here. As in, don't go back to Omega.”

She stared at him. “What?”

“I mean it. I guess it's just...you've been on Omega for nearly four years. First it was because of the whole issue with being stranded, but then you never left because you wanted to watch out for Rai. He's moved on, now. His girlfriend got him off that hole, and you didn't go with him because you're comfortable there. You shouldn't be. As much as I hate the Citadel, it _is_ safer than Omega, by a long shot. At least here you have C-Sec around every corner, and the cops who aren't crooked, would easily take a bullet for you if you were in trouble. The fact is...there's no reason for you to go back. The squad is gone. I'm not there. Your brother moved. You're already here, and living on this station would give you so much more time and opportunities in trying to find a colony for your parents.”

She glanced down at her hands, which had dropped her food and were folded together. “I can't just leave Kenn there.”

“You're using him as an excuse. You and I both know that.” He made her face him so she couldn't back out. “Kenn went to Omega and was robbed. He only needs a small sum of credits to leave and continue on his Pilgrimage. As much as you helped him, you also hindered him. He never would've wanted to leave if he was comfortable living with you, and making that life more tolerable. He needs to experience the galaxy on his own; that's the point. You can make your own decisions, but I want what's best. It just makes sense that you stay here. We can have Kenn ship the rest of your stuff, or maybe next time I'm on Omega, I can convince Shepard. It couldn't have been easy, booking transport here.”

Isa shook her head and buried it in her hands. “It wasn't. I was _terrified_ , Garrus. The last time I went off by myself, I was captured by a slaver. I know I'm naïve, but I'm learning not to be. I don't want to try to book passage again and risk being taken advantage of. If I do make it back to the station, I can't spend the rest of my life going from bar to bar to avoid getting stabbed or shot by racist aliens. But I just can't stand the thought of starting all over. How would I even do it?”

He let out a slight, strained laugh. “When I tried to look for you, at the clinic, they said you did work as a counselor. You could do that here. C-Sec deals with a lot of victims. Most of them don't get heard, or they're brushed aside by regulations and paperwork. They need someone to connect with them.”

“I do have a degree in xenopsychology,” she murmured. “Just never got to use it.”

“I can make a few calls. I used to work here, remember? A few friends owe me some favors. I can get you a position with them doing that. We can get you started on a down payment for an apartment. The Citadel has its crime zones, but it isn't Omega. It isn't just this place where everyone can run amok with no law enforcement. And I guarantee that you'll make friends in the security division so they'll put extra attention in keeping an eye on you; C-Sec looks out for their own. I want you to be happy. And we both know you can't be on Omega.”

“But you're going through the Omega-4 Relay. If I stay there, we'll be able to see each other at least one more time before you make the run.”

“You know I'm willing to sacrifice a last minute reunion for this. Come on. Besides, I'm insulted you'd think I'd let myself die on this mission. I fully expect to come back, and when I do, I need to know you haven't been hurt or killed because you wanted a goodbye beforehand.”

She kissed him, catching him off guard, but he was getting used to the feeling of her lips on his plates. He placed his forehead against hers when she pulled back.

“Okay,” she finally said, defeated look in her eyes. “We can run around today and knock some of those things off the list. But I have something to say to you, too. I don't know where you got the idea that Kenn and I were together, because we never were. We're just friends and roommates.”

He blinked. “But Tali said she saw you maintaining his antibiotic coils. Before we left Omega, the last time I saw you.”

She shot him a strange look. “I know how sensitive those are to quarians, and I would never even _want_ to go near one, for fear of killing someone. Kenn's never asked me to do that. It sort of sounds like Tali just made it up to make you jealous.”

Well, it was official. He was going to kill that damn woman. “Okay. It doesn't explain why he was so protective of you.”

“Because we became friends, and I was nice to him. Garrus, he's on his Pilgrimage; he's not even considered an adult in his own culture. I'm not going to be weird about it and hit on him. That was a huge reason in why he let me move in with him in the first place. Plus, I thought you had _died_. I couldn't sit there and get together with someone when my feelings for you were still raw. I was grieving. I would never.”

“Now I feel kind of stupid.”

“Well, even though you assumed incorrectly, at least it put enough fire under you to make a move.”

“I'm sorry,” he got out, feeling more miserable by the second. “It took serious prodding from my friends to let go of a grudge in order to get over the interspecies thing. Or even consider it. I shouldn't have...what did Ripper tell me that one time? Led you on.”

Isa smiled, but it didn't seem entirely genuine. “I knew you didn't feel that way. Most of the people I end up caring about are all unrequited. So I just didn't want to let it go. I kept hoping that maybe things would work out, and if they didn't, I'd still be there when you needed me. Sort of pathetic, really. But it wasn't about me trying to woo you. I just wanted to look out where I could. Someone had to.”

The two of them split up not long after. Garrus insisted that they take a shower together, because in truth he was fascinated with her body differences, but she wouldn't have it. Apparently the bright lights of the bathroom were too much for her, and she didn't want him to scrutinize her. He really had to work on building her confidence with him.

Still, after they cleaned up, he decided to head down to C-Sec Academy to hit up some old contacts. She was already on her way to the hospital to check on her brother and give him the news about staying on the Citadel.

It was hard swallowing his pride to call in a few favors from people. Some of the officers who saw him shot him smirks and scoffs, probably assuming incorrectly that he was back to beg for his job. He really wasn't in the mood to pick fights with anyone, especially when he was at their mercy. He ended up heading toward the office of Detective Chellick, someone he'd worked with extensively back in his days here as an officer, and a personal friend of Shepard's.

The office seemed smaller than he remembered. He stepped in and the other turian was on the comm with someone, ordering them to get their head out of their ass. He hung up in a huff and was about to get back to the paperwork when he spotted Garrus from across the room.

“Vakarian,” he started, “I thought you quit. Funds run out already? Or did you come here to gloat about catching the dealer you'd been chasing hopelessly?”

“I'm sure you have heard that he's been dead for quite some time. Thugs on Omega, looks like. Anyway, I didn't come here for that. I'm here for a proposition that benefits you as well as a...friend of mine.”

“In good will toward our service together, I'm listening.”

Garrus laid out all of the details he thought appropriate. He wanted to make sure that Chellick understood the severity of the situation. He couldn't show weakness and have Chellick pick out something that would cause him to say no. It was like presenting a case to his commanding officer, trying to persuade them into letting him continue his investigation. The entire time, Chellick's expression was stony, no tremble in his subvocals, nothing to give away for Garrus to exploit.

Once his spiel was finished, Chellick leaned back in his chair. “What do you gain out of this? Sleep better at night?”

“Something like that. I give you her name, you can check the court and police records. I'm positive she'll come up clean. She has a degree in xenopsychology, and you can't deny it would be good press for the organization.”

Chellick typed in her name into the system and, sure enough, it was clear. “Hm. Impressive, considering the newness to the program on Earth. Alright, Vakarian. I'll give her a shot. The complaints we've received from the victims as of late has been a nightmare to work through. Our officers are trained to use deadly force, not reason with battered men and women. When can she stop by to fill out the paperwork?”

“I'll bring her down later this afternoon. Speaking of which, know anyone who might need a roommate?”

Aela was considered a beauty, even by her species' high standards. She was deadly on the field, a hell of a shot, and a known womanizer. Garrus was aware that many asari weren't concerned with sex or gender when they pursued potential mates, but Aela was decidedly against the whole male population. Which made her an excellent officer due to her ability to work as a distraction. She was highly charismatic, could turn on the charm to make anyone think she was interested, and often went undercover in the bars and the seedy wards to chase down high-profile criminals. Her service record was outstanding. Her only downfall was that she was an amorous person. Never to the point where it was problematic, but her trysts with women across the station were legendary for their sheer intensity and numbers.

They had been partners for a couple of years until she transferred to another sector, and even now, as ageless as ever, she was still bending men to her whims and cracking skulls.

“Garrus Vakarian,” she laughed over the loud music of the bar. “What are you doing here? On my day off, no less?”

“I heard you were looking for a roommate.” Garrus gestured to Isa, who met him up for lunch. “I think I found her.”

Aela finished the rest of her beer and slammed it onto the counter, wheeling around. A smile came across her lips and she gave her the once-over. “I always did have a weakness for a woman with curves. Nice of you to remember.” She pushed past Garrus and took a step forward, hand jutting out to latch onto Isa's. “First question: have a problem with my type?”

His girlfriend blinked at her. “I don't usually like Frigo's summer ale, but I'm willing to compromise.”

Aela smirked. “Cute. You pass. Question two: messy, or clean?”

“Living with two guys in the past couple of years makes it hard to be neat and tidy, but I promise I'll remember to take out the trash and do my dishes.”

“A woman after my own heart. I don't like stuffy people who try to organize my things. Question three: I need a dancing partner some nights, you up for it?”

Without waiting for an answer, Aela dragged her toward the dance floor, and brought her to the middle of the crowd. Garrus couldn't see them from his vantage point, but they wouldn't have stayed for a good ten minutes if they weren't having fun. It was hard to imagine the both of them letting loose, together. If his instinct was right, Aela probably had her pinned between someone else and was grinding away. Poor Isa.

When they reemerged from the sea of bodies, Aela had her arm around his girlfriend's, leading her back toward her seat. There was a familiar glimmer in her eyes.

“Good catch, Vakarian,” she purred. “If I wasn't sure she was yours, I would've tried to get her to come home with me. Rent's twelve hundred a month, including utilities. We split it halfway and you've got yourself a roommate.”

“Deal.”

Before Aela could get any more ideas, he thanked her and managed to draw Isa out of the bar, a giddy smile still on her face. She seemed to be coming down from the adrenaline high. She brushed a few sweaty locks of hair from her forehead, breaths coming out in short puffs.

“I've never met someone so...loud before,” she laughed. “Or had a roommate who actually wanted to take me to places like this.”

“It'll be good for you. And Aela's C-Sec, she knows the station. She'll help you out. Win-win. She gets lowered rent and eye candy. Until you have enough saved for your own place.”

Isa fell in line with his stride and looked up at him with a smile. “Can't say I'm not flattered. She's really forward, but nice. I like her.”

“It's what she's known for. Being so damn likable. Until, of course, the men realize she's been manipulating them from the start and she's just busted their drug ring. My only advice? Try not to get too chummy with any of her girlfriends; they don't last long and might hold a grudge if they think you're too friendly with her. She inspires the madness of jealousy in almost all of her partners, and the break-ups are always nasty. So if she has female company over, even if it's more than one person, just lay low. Or decline the invite to bed. She'll be pretty persistent about it.”

Isa bumped into him on purpose, still staring straight ahead. The affection in the strange gesture was clear.


	39. Goodbye

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It only took a suicide mission for him to realize he wanted to make it back to someone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey buddies the first four paragraphs are nsfw just lettin' ya know
> 
> the rest is totally safe though so i'd skip 'em if you're not comfortable

Garrus never understood the fascination with asari girlfriends before. If their sexual practices were similar in any way to humans, he did now.

No way in hell, he remembered telling her, when she hinted at it. He insisted that it was too weird. But she made a great case for it by distracting him with kisses that left his mind in shambles. Before he knew it, his cock slipped out of his plates, and she had him in her mouth. Swallowing as much of him as she could and using her hand for the rest she couldn't get to, pumping, licking, lapping at the tip, swathing with her tongue, and providing just enough suction that he ended up coming halfway down her throat.

“Wow,” he found himself saying afterward.

She just laughed a little bit and went back to find that weak spot on his neck that made him blank out.

It was their last day together. He knew that he couldn't stay here on the station forever, but the thought of leaving her here to build a new life did bother him. She decided to ease his fears by coaxing him to take her to bed. She was subtle in her desires, too shy to actually come out and say it, but he had a feeling. It was confirmed when he made a move and she reciprocated.

He watched her come out of the shower, hair damp and already dressed. She liked to get dressed in the bathroom which still threw him for a loop. Humans could be such prudes sometimes, which clashed with their behavior. He really needed to read up more on things like this to understand the difference. Why was she uncomfortable walking around naked, but on the bed she had no qualms about it?

“I'll walk you to the docking bay,” she offered. “Rai's going to check out later this afternoon. I can drop off my things at Aela's place afterward and finish up the rest of the paperwork in Chellick's office. She'll probably want to give me a proper tour down there anyway, considering how many times she's messaged me in the past hour.” She settled on the chair, gazing at him. “I don't think we'll have a chance to see each other before you go through the relay.”

“You never know,” Garrus told her, though deep down she was probably right.

Shepard's plans were simple: head to Omega for something concerning Samara, then a straight shot to the Reaper IFF that the Illusive Man had been bugging him about for quite some time. Who knew what would happen after that? It would only be a matter of time before they figured out a way to get past the relay. It sort of cut down how much time there would be between them. No more stops to the Citadel.

“We can always message each other. Living here, with an extranet connection, makes it a lot easier and less costly to get into contact with you.”

“And you're _sure_ you won't ignore my messages?” he teased.

“Positive. You'll be fed up with mine. I'll tell you everything that's going on. So long as you return the favor.”

“I'm looking forward to it. Really. As much as I didn't like it here, I know you'll be in good hands.”

After they'd gathered everything up, making sure no discarded clothes were hidden in the crevices of the room, they headed toward the docking bay. It was a quiet walk, as neither of them had no idea what to say. Garrus was afraid that he might blurt out something offensive and end their time together on a sour note. He knew she was probably thinking the same too, considering how much she seemed to be making offhand, surface-level comments. But it was fine. They didn't need to fill the silence with needless jabber to make the departure that much more traumatic. She was never like that when she left the base on Omega, and the experience was nearly the same. Back then, anything could've happened to any of them at any moment. The stakes were just a bit higher this time around, with more distance between them.

Not surprisingly, there were a lot of people around. Garrus wasn't positive about the protocol on departures between people involved, especially with a human civilian. She didn't make a move to do anything to him, though. Aside from their impromptu first kiss, she hadn't done anything to show a public display of affection. There were a few playful pushes or nudges, but nothing dramatic.

She stopped near the _Normandy's_ bay and crossed her arms. From here they could look out the giant window and see the name printed on the side in its signature font. He wished he could have shown it to her, maybe given her a tour. Maybe next time. She turned toward him with a nervous smile.

“So, ready to ship out? No more Citadel-worthy food. Rations and freeze-dried packs for you. And no socially awkward human females to keep you company at night.”

“When you put it that way, it does sound...horrible.” They both laughed. “There's Shepard, come to embarrass me further.”

Shepard and Tali walked up and his commander gestured to the door with a nod of her head. “Ready, Garrus?”

“You got it, Shepard.”

Tali crept closed to Isa and her tone was downright impish. “You know, next time we come to visit, we have to spend some time together. I can't wait to tell you all of the embarrassing stories I know about Garrus. Like this one time–on the Mako–” She started to laugh, and was silenced when the turian in question stepped in front of her with a sour look.

“She's teasing. I'll see you after the mission is over. You can count on it.”

The trio headed toward the cargo bay doors, and Garrus snuck a glance back at her. She waved slightly but looked more defeated than anything. He almost regretted convincing her to stay, but immediately took that thought back. She would get more out of her experiences here. She had a better chance at making a difference, too.

“Aren't you suave?” Tali snickered as the decontamination process completed, the three of them stepping into the aisle near the pilot bay. “You exceeded my expectations. Happen to watch any romantic comedies with her? Humans are typically offended if their significant other leaves without looking back. Good instincts.”

Garrus snorted. “Is that a real thing?”

“It sure is,” Shepard answered for her. “But what I'd like to know is how Miss vas Normandy got to be such an expert on human culture. Have you been doing research too?”

“Hey! Don't spin this on me,” she whined. “We're supposed to be giving Garrus a hard time.”

“I think his girlfriend did that enough the past couple of days. Now I'm more interested in watching you squirm.”

The three of them separated toward their respective stations. It would be nice to be doing something familiar for a change. The last couple of days was all about new experiences, and while not entirely unwelcome, he hated not feeling like he was in charge of something. That sense of powerlessness, without knowing how to be meticulous and make the right move...it was jarring. But that just meant that he had a few weeks of trying to bridge that gap in knowledge with his girlfriend. He needed to make more of an effort to understand her culture, too.

First? Take down the damn Collectors.

The trip toward Omega for Samara's lead would take a few days. In the meantime, Garrus busied himself with making sure the new Thannix was in tip top shape. He knew that the weapons systems was one of the biggest faults of the original _Normandy_ , and they needed some firepower to deal with the Collectors head on. After learning that they'd been stalking Shepard and continued to do so despite already killing her once...well, he felt obligated to be there for his commander. Not just as a soldier, but a friend. He wished he was there when the ship went down two years ago.

Maybe if he had been, instead of trying his hand at C-Sec again, he could have...

No, no use in thinking about it. That feeling of failure and frustration was what inspired him to chase down criminals on Omega in the first place. He remembered being so overwhelmed with the idea of letting his commander down, knowing that such an outstanding person was killed by the Council's incompetence. That changed something in him. He wanted to become a better person and make more of an impact, just like Shepard had. He'd wanted to make his friend proud.

Those ten names engraved in his visor? Those were the identities of people who believed in him, who supported him. He was to them what Shepard was to him. That was something. They followed his lead and expected great things out of him. Despite the way things all went down, he'd succeeded in so many other aspects of his career there. They took down big names and inspired fear in the hearts of the three biggest mercenary gangs on the station. He drove them to creating an alliance just to get rid of his team because they were threatened. He wouldn't have been able to do it alone, and like Isa said, they knew the risks. They understood the possibilities and consequences of their involvement to do what was right. No one expressed any regrets, no curses at him for dragging them into it.

He just wished that things turned out differently for them. The way that they went...it wasn't right. It still made him sick to his stomach. But dwelling on it wouldn't help anyone; he needed to learn from it, to grow stronger. To evolve beyond his mistakes. That was the lasting legacy that he needed to take from that experience, not feel sorry about himself.

Despite the way he felt about his career thus far, he made some amazing breakthroughs. He'd done services to the galaxy that others could have only dreamed of. While he was just a player in the grand scheme of things, it was still an impressive record. Taking down Saren and learning about the oncoming threat of the Reapers, pouring all of his time and effort into saving human colonies...that meant a hell of a lot more than sitting behind a desk and trying to stop weapon smuggling. It wasn't as instantaneous in its reward like killing off slavers and serial killers, but it was still preserving the fate of the galaxy. Trading out little deals for huge missions that literally meant saving the lives of billions as opposed to thousands.

That was why he had to stand by his work, why he couldn't let himself give in to the guilt and shame that his father would have him feel. His dad had always done things by the book, and though he was considered a hero by many, Garrus made his own path. He wanted to gun down the bigger targets, look beyond the immediate scope and think ahead to the future. His father couldn't have done that, not by going by the book and being slowed down by regulations. And while Garrus would always have a grudging respect for him, it wasn't his way. His mindset was that of a Spectre; get things done for the good of the galaxy, no matter the cost.

The difference was, from his position back when he was a rookie to now, that he had someone like Shepard giving him worthy advice. Someone who made him stop to question things now and again. He had a mentor, someone to give him the rundown on his actions. He'd never forget those lessons that Shepard taught him, and that was why he valued her friendship more than anything. His father would be quick to disagree and dismiss everything in its entirety, but Shepard was willing to work with him. To make him see why his train of thought was wrong or how he could do things differently. Instead of an outright no, she persuaded him into looking at the situation from all angles. Shepard always made the right calls. The things she'd done in the past was proof of that.

So if it was a choice to head back to the Citadel and try to do things right, or bend the rules and get results with a watchful commanding officer and friend, Garrus would choose the latter every single time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> one more chapter! one more chapter!!


	40. Omega

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shepard might have showed him shades of gray, but Isa had finally given him color.

Samara insisted that the mission required her and Shepard only.

Didn't stop Garrus from boarding off the ship to tie up some loose ends, though.

He wondered what kind of problem it was that caused the normally painfully honest and blunt justicar to be so...secretive. It must have been something personal. Of course, why wouldn't it be? She seemed to take her sweet time in asking Shepard for help, and she seemed the type to solve her issues on her own. Whatever this thing was, she trusted the commander enough to aid her in it. And Garrus respected that. People who asked for favors all the time and never reciprocated got to be pretty tiresome after a while. Her biotics weren't just for show; she was a menace on the battlefield, and each time he worked alongside her, he felt a bit sorry for those who got in her way.

Garrus made his way to Kenn's Salvage. He was aware of the fact that the quarian already knew about his roommate not planning to come back. He just hoped that he could smooth out any tension that might have erupted because of his forceful persuasion.

Kenn was working on something or another, still trying to keep himself busy. If there was one thing to be said about quarians, it was that they truly did try to make better impressions of their race through hard work. He paused in mid-grind and whipped around. Good instincts. He knew what it was like to live on Omega and be wary of the surroundings.

“Oh! Garrus. Can I help you with something?”

“Sort of. I was planning to pack up the rest of Isa's things and get them on a trustworthy ship. And I wanted to speak with you.”

The quarian put away his tools, not wanting to risk an accident. “You don't have to say anything. We talked about things on the comm, and I agree with you. I actually tried to get her off station myself before, but she didn't want to leave because she had too many memories. Since you're alive, she doesn't have an attachment any more. I always knew she had to get out of here, but I couldn't leave her when I got my credits together.”

His mandibles flicked. “Exactly what I told her. Guess she just got tired of hearing it?”

“I think it was more like who it was from. I'm on my way to getting out of here. With Commander Shepard's help, it'll be two more months at the most. I packed up all of her stuff, well, what I could.”

Despite the amicable vibe to the conversation, he just had to be sure. “Listen, Kenn, uh...” He cleared his throat. “I know that she said that there wasn't anything between you two, but I wanted to hear your side. Did you two ever...?”

Kenn went quiet. “Ever…? Oh. No, not at all. Not to say she wasn't great, but...I'm not interested in that sort of thing. With anyone. She was just someone that made this place seem a bit more livable. I think I did the same for her. We'll keep in touch, though. I can't wait to continue on to new places and tell her about them.”

“Anything valuable I should send off separately?” He wasn't sure if Isa shared specifically what he was talking about, so he danced around it.

“You mean the colony emblems? She took those with her. She wears them around her neck.”

Garrus thought about it. “Huh. I didn't notice when we--”

Both men let the awkward silence speak for them. Whoops. Too much information.

“Anyway. Here's the key to the apartment. And thanks again.”

“Yeah. Stay safe, Kenn. Good luck with the rest of your Pilgrimage.”

He confirmed the order to have the shipment taken on board. A Cerberus vessel that was docked at Omega for repairs agreed to make the stop at the Citadel per Shepard's request. He wouldn't have trusted anyone else to do it. Even as meaningless as her things might have seemed, people would try to make a profit off anything.

Once that business was taken care of, he started on a walk. It'd been some time that he just traversed on the station alone, but it brought back memories. He retraced his steps from over two years ago, moving away from the market district to the lower section of _Afterlife._ He pictured himself stumbling across Sidonis who had wronged some angry krogan, and how the two of them took down the criminals. How they limped over to that very bar and shared a few drinks together, talking down on the status of the station. The idea that Garrus came up with and the easy agreement that followed between two complete strangers, with a camaraderie forged from injustice.

Outside on the walkway, near the VIP station, was where he met Butler. The human watched a gang shakedown in progress near one of the balconies. Some of the Eclipse mercs were dangling an innocent over the edge, demanding money for a service they hadn't bothered to complete. Despite the fact that it was an alien they were torturing, the orange-clad man stepped forward and cocked his shotgun. For a moment, Garrus saw a flash of Shepard, back turned, in that same position, a blazing icon of what was righteous. It faded once the man shot both of the mercs down without any hesitation instead of heading for a diplomatic move. The shields of both dropped, and he butted them off the same railing they were using to inspire fear, bodies tumbling down below with a decrescendo of screams. Butler turned around and there was an afterimage of Shepard, but he eyed the two of them and asked them if they were done watching.

Not ten minutes later, they were all following his lead to another Eclipse meeting further down the district, and successfully slaughtered twenty more recruits.

Interfering in the Blood Pack affairs led them to Vortash. The krogan was causing trouble at one of their known bases, preaching about the loss of honor and pride of his people. He shielded the group away from a gaggle of children they planned to kill, probably spies from another rival merc band. The older krogan stepped between their bullets and took the full brunt of the hit, tapping into a blood rage when he charged through. Butler was happy to provide back up with no orders from Garrus, joining in on the fight with his own shotgun, while Sidonis led the kids safely away from the scene.

That was when Garrus knew that they needed this man. Post battle, with blood staining his teeth and flecks of his own brethren's guts staining his armor, Vortash pledged his services to the cause with no hesitation.

Mierin always made an entrance. His talents must have been among many in STG, and how he ended up on Omega, Garrus had no idea. Not that he was complaining. While they planned to storm a gang meeting place, discussing tactics beforehand on a high point of view, their thoughts were interrupted by a large explosion. The blast radius kicked up a dust storm of debris that reached them on the perch, and each one of them choked on the remnants of the building.

On top of the rubble was a salarian swept up head to toe in armor and, in his hand, a detonator. He waved to the group and laughed gleefully at the result of his work.

Down the road, on top of the glittering holographic ad, was where he saw Monteague. It was the shimmer of his tactical cloak that caught Garrus' eye. The man had his eye through a mounted rifle's scope, picking his shot. Aiming carefully. When the cloak disappeared in a burst of visual feed, a known drug peddler and slave trader was on the floor. Monteague stood to his full height, hazel eyes locking with the turian down below. He smiled with a brief salute, two fingers pressed to his temple. He shimmied down the building to meet with him. A direct confrontation, expressing his interest in the things he'd seen Garrus do.

Strange how a sniper managed to tail them without anyone knowing, and instead of ending their crusade, he wanted to join.

At this door, the one leading to an old weapons warehouse, was where they met Grundan Krul. Garrus struggled for a full five minutes to hack into the mainframe so he could access security controls, and each time he failed, the system adapted. It teased him with promises of victory and then baited him further away from his intended goal. Without any warning, a batarian strode up, furious, and for a minute there Garrus thought that he would have to kill him for interfering. But he stopped Vortash from making a move to knock him out and the tech expert went to work. In less than ten seconds, the indicator flashed green, and the security controls were in front of him, displayed on his own omnitool.

He had Mierin flag the man down because he planned to turn heel and leave.

Further along the station he went. This was the path to one of their earlier bases, and he hesitated at the gate. He and the crew had been coming home when two figures were waiting for them. Ripper was the one who'd stepped forward, heading straight for Garrus, head tilted in a very human-like nod of acknowledgment. He didn't bother introducing himself right away, but asked if this was where they might find Archangel. This busted up house with the structure falling apart, and a lower-level garage that they used to connect to the sewers in order to travel, but it was home. Garrus asked him why, and he'd simply laughed, showing him his heavy pistol. He fired off a round and hit a stationary baggie wrapped in a stranger's hand up on a balcony across the way. It exploded in his grip, the red sand dissipating in the air.

Once the suds hit the floor, Ripper trailed into the base and began his speech on how he and his brother got their names.

That spot over there? That was where Sensat stubbed his toe on a loose piece of gravel and still smiled through the pain. And that little alleyway? Erash jumped a couple of kids trying to sell drugs to some of the many bystanders, put on the line by gang members as an easy cop-out. He drilled them until they gave the location of their main supplier and who coerced them into the position.

Then there was Melenis. Still in his C-Sec uniform and trying to break up a street riot. Similar to the predicament that Garrus encountered with the asari kids fighting for ration bars, but this one was just a bloodbath. For no reason. Because what sort of rationale did you need when living on a place like Omega? The human woman in the middle was being fought over like a piece of meat, half of her clothes torn off, tears streaming down her face, blood between her thighs. She ran off the moment she was in the clear. The gang resorted to taking out their frustrations on the turian who tried to play hero, not even bothering with guns, but wailing on him with their fists. He fought back, dodging, until the exhaustion came over him. At that moment of possible defeat, Butler happened upon him and stepped in.

That food stand was where he found a contact with a grudge for the Widow Sisters after they'd killed his grandson. Man had been arguing on the comm and offered to make a deal with the squad for some shield upgrades as a thank you. He never heard much about the bigger meat, but he contributed something. Ended up dying after one of the women put a hit on him for squealing. How they found out, Garrus never knew.

He stepped inside the cafe, observing the room. The console that led to the basement and the hallex operation wasn't there any more, the whole section of the store sealed off. The new store owner was a salarian who was more than eager to follow Garrus around, spewing some sort of nonsense about how careful he was in his levo-acid wares and cross contamination. The chairs were the same, the booths still scribbled on and torn, gang names and graffiti carved into the tables.

The window to his left was the one he looked into, following the Blue Suns.

Back door? Where he watched a human civilian get dragged away, the hesitation in taking the shot an echo in the back of his mind.

What would have changed, had he gone against his commander's advice? If Shepard's words hadn't come drifting back from better days, berating him for his complete lack of disregard for the hostage?

If he had dropped the Blue Sun like he wanted, he would have singlehandedly destroyed her life in an attempt to save her. Killed her brother. Stranded her on this station with half her income. Made an enemy. She would have gone to the Blue Suns then, wanting revenge, screams torn from her throat for Archangel's blood.

Maybe she would have joined. Used that anger and betrayal to hunt him down personally. Found her voice, her backbone. Risen in the ranks, becoming a seasoned officer and destroying any opposition. Usurping Tarak from his throne, fighting back. She would have been the one to steer the gunship and shoot him down, and knowing her determination, would not have missed. He probably would've died in his base among his men because she was intelligent and resourceful, wringing out information from people and listening, always perceptive.

Hell, she might've even killed Harga herself, making him eat his own words.

No quiet talks with her about association.

No pings in the middle of the night with designated meeting times.

No soft hands cradling his torso while she wrapped a wound he couldn't reach.

No desperate looks from Ripper, laughter from Butler, admiration from Weaver, annoyance from Vortash, indifference from Sidonis, geeking out with Monteague.

No gentle kisses on his mouth and forehead pressed to hers, hands entwining with his.

No silent promises of devotion toward him, despite interests from another.

If this spiral of events never happened, so many things would have changed for both of them. He wouldn't be in a position where he had someone to fight for. A personal tie to the cause. He wouldn't have been able to fathom how another person could care so deeply for him. Nothing like the flings he had in the past who were more concerned with having fun and taking advantage of their youth.

Perusing through old landmarks from his past, coming to a well-deserved closure, and staring across the bridge at the building where his squad fell, Garrus reached the epiphany so many others had before him.

And it was fucking terrifying.

Isa loved him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As you can tell from the last line, I intended to write more when I started this fic. But my interest waned as I played ME3 and realized how much of an undertaking it would be. I had so much more planned, especially considering how Isa now resides on the Citadel and what that might mean during the Reaper attack. 
> 
> Regardless, I think it's fitting to close this up where Garrus began. Rest assured he survives the suicide mission and visits Isa before he goes to Palaven.
> 
> I wanted to give a huge thank you to everyone that's been reading this. It means a lot. I haven't posted any of my works in years because of self-confidence issues, but knowing that there's someone out there who enjoys this really does make a difference.

**Author's Note:**

> like the fic? you could always [give me a tip](http://ko-fi.com/1606VSUKPT64C)!!!
> 
> want to chat? i've got a blog on [tumblr](http://subtlequirk.tumblr.com)!!!


End file.
